And Nothing is very strong: strong enough to steal away a man's best years not in sweet sins but in a dreary flickering of the mind over it knows not what and knows not why, in the gratification of curiosities so feeble that the man is only half aware of them, in drumming of fingers and kicking of heels, in whistling tunes that he does not like, or in the long, dim labyrinth of reveries that have not even lust or ambition to give them a relish, but which, once chance association has started them, the creature is too weak and fuddled to shake off.
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Both mind and heart when given up to reveries and dreaminess, have a thousand avenues open for the entrance of evil.
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Immense power is acquired by assuring yourself in your secret reveries that you were born to control affairs.
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Meantime the education of the general mind never stops. The reveries of the true and simple are prophetic. What the tender poetic youth dreams...
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