Sublime

He was but a spark of the sun, in himself nothing.

He was no longer the man he had known, or rather thought himself.

As in all sweetest music, a tinge of sadness was in every note.

"Joy's a subtil elf. I think man's happiest when he forgets himself."

She went like a radiance through the dark wood, which was henceforth bright to me, from simply knowing that such a creature was in it.

to nourish him for yet deeper insatiableness."

"Go, my son, and do something worth doing,"