"MINNA, DO YOU HEAR THOSE DELIGHTFUL STRAINS?"
HE SAID AFTER A PAUSE, WITH THE VOICE OF A DOVE, FOR THE EAGLE’S CRY WAS HUSHED;
"IT IS LIKE THE MUSIC OF THOSE AEOLIAN HARPS YOUR POETS HANG IN FORESTS AND ON THE MOUNTAINS.
DO YOU SEE THE SHADOWY FIGURES PASSING AMONG THE CLOUDS,
THE WINGED FEET OF THOSE WHO ARE MAKING READY THE GIFTS OF HEAVEN?
THEY BRING REFRESHMENT TO THE SOUL; THE SKIES ARE ABOUT TO OPEN AND SHED THE FLOWERS OF SPRING UPON THE EARTH.
SEE, A GLEAM IS DARTING FROM THE POLE. LET US FLY, LET US FLY! IT IS TIME WE GO!"
~ Honoré de Balzac, “Seraphita.”
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