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Updated: May 2, 2025
We watched it at intervals as long as it was recognizable, and when at last it vanished beyond even imagination's power to conjure up, felt a strange pang of personal regret. The sea that snatches away so many lands at parting seems fitly inhuman to the deed. In the course of these two days two things happened which pointed curiously to the isolation of this part of Japan.
But ah! this other, this that never ends, Still climbing, luring fancy still to climb, As full of morals, half divined, as life, Graceful, grotesque, with ever new surprise Of hazardous caprices, sure to please, Heavy as nightmare, airy light as fern, Imagination's very self in stone."
Ever creating, never realizing; living in a world of beauty etherialized in imagination's lens, and hating the material world as it is; buffeted by fortune and ridiculed by fools whose conceptions never rise above the dirt. A little note, sweetly scented, is placed in his hand: "Cousin and I propose a ride. Shall we have your company? You are aware it is the Sabbath.
Who would deny me the feeling of exultation which came to me? Was I not captor and captain of my own ship? I turned to meet L'Olonnois, my blue-eyed pirate. He stood at my side as one glorified. The full swing of romance had him, the full illusion of this, imagination's most ardent desire now gripped him fully. He was no boy, but a human being possessed of all his dreams.
"Let the boy alone," my aunt put in, a little dark woman of French and English ancestry, "you ought to thank God that he has enough imagination to make up stories ... he might be a great writer some day." "Imagination's all right. I'm not quarrelling with Johnnie for that. But you can't be all balloon and no ballast."
The rogues who fell, the rogues who stood, the boats that came on, the boats that withdrew, of these we were ignorant. All was hidden from our eyes; the veil of the night cloaked from us the work we had done. If men cried in agony, if groans mocked angry boasts, if we heard the splashing of the oars, the hoarse command, the vile blasphemy, the rest was in imagination's keeping.
Motherless, and with few female friends even, she had been shut away with her own girlish thoughts and fears and wonderings more than most girls of her age. Life was a mystery to her. She lived in books and in romances and in imagination's pictures more than she did in the workaday world about her.
"Lord, Old Un!" exclaimed Simon, "who's a-talkin' o' fadin's an' churchyards? I don't like it let's talk o' summ'at else." "Simon," said the Ancient, shaking his head reprovingly, "ye be a good bye ah! a steady, dootiful lad ye be, I don't deny it; but the Lord aren't give you no imagination, which, arter all, you should be main thankful for; a imagination's a troublesome thing aren't it, Peter?"
Yes, just as the Pope and the other terrestrial powers, were beginning to sneak away, and to faint, and the potentates of hell to fall by tens of thousands, each making, to my imagination's ear, as much noise as if a huge mountain had been precipitated into the depths of the sea, my companion quitted me, and there was an end of my dream; for what with the noise made by the fiends, and the agitation which I felt at losing my companion, I awoke from my sleep, and returned with the utmost reluctance to my sluggish clod, thinking how noble and delightful it was to be a free spirit, to wander about in angelic company, quite secure, though seemingly in the midst of peril.
What is poor plain George Fox compared to William Shakspere to fancy's lord, imagination's heir? Yet George Fox stands for something too a thought the thought that wakes in silent hours perhaps the deepest, most eternal thought latent in the human soul. This is the thought of God, merged in the thoughts of moral right and the immortality of identity.
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