The silky grass sighs as the wind comescarrying the blue butterfly more
rapidly thanhis wings. A large humble-bee burrs round the green dome against
which I rest; my hands are scented with thyme. The sweetness of the day,
the fulness of the earth, the beauteous earth, how shall I say it?

Three things only have been discovered of that which concerns the inner
consciousness since before written history began. Three things only in
twelve thousand written, or sculptured, years, and in the dumb, dim time
before then. Three ideas the Cavemen primeval wrested from the unknown, the
night which is round us still in daylight--the existence of the soul, im-
mortality, the deity. These things found, prayer followed as a sequential
result. Since then nothing further has been found in all the twelve thousand
years, as if men had been satisfied and had found these to suffice. They do
not suffice me. I desire to advance further, and to wrest afourth, and even
still more than a fourth, from the darkness of thought. I want more ideas of
soul-life. I am certain that there are more yet to be found. A great
life--an entire civilisation--lies just outside the pale of common thought.
Cities and countries, inhabitants, intelligences, culture--an entire
civilisation. Except by illustrations drawn from familiar things, there is
no way of
indicating a new idea. I do not mean actual cities, actual civilisation.
Such life is different from any yet imagined. A nexus of ideas exists of
which nothing is known--a vast system of ideas--a cosmos of thought. There
is an Entity, a Soul-Entity, as yet unrecognised. These, rudely expressed,
constitute my Fourth Idea. It is beyond, or beside, the three discovered by
the Cavemen; it is in addition to the existence of the soul; in addition to
immortality; and beyond the idea of the deity. I think there is something
more than existence.