3“It was a life,” said Sarnac, “and it was a dream, a dream within this life; and this life too is a dream. Dreams within dreams, dreams containing dreams, until we come at last, maybe, to the Dreamer of all dreams, the Being who is all beings. Nothing is too wonderful for life and nothing is too beautiful.”
He got up and thrust back the great curtain of the guest-house room. “All night we have been talking and living in the dark Ages of Confusion and now the sunrise is close at hand.”
He went out upon the portico of the guest-house and stood still, surveying the great mountains that rose out of cloud and haze, dark blue and mysterious in their recesses and soaring up at last into the flush of dawn.
He stood quite still and all the world seemed still, except that, far away and far below
