“There are not many
persons who know what wonders are opened to them in the stories and visions of
their youth; for when as children we listen and dream, we think but half-formed
thoughts, and when as men we try to remember, we are dulled and prosaic with the
poison of life. But some of us awake in the night with strange phantasms of
enchanted hills and gardens, of fountains that sing in the sun, of golden
cliffs overhanging murmuring seas, of plains that stretch down to sleeping
cities of bronze and stone, and of shadowy companies of heroes that ride
caparisoned white horses along the edges of thick forests; and then we know
that we have looked back through the ivory gates into that world of wonder
which was ours before we were wise and unhappy.”
– H. P. Lovecraft, “Celephaïs”.
The Burning of the Houses of Lords and Commons, 1834. J. M. W. Turner.
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