So then, o my Son, there is my Wisdom, that the Voice of the Soul in its true Nature Eternal and Unchangeable, comprehending all Change, is Silence; and the Voice of the Soul, dynamic, in the Way of its Will, is song. Nor is there any Form of utterance that is not, as song is, the Music proper to that Motion, according to the Law. Thus, as thy Cousin Arthur Machen hath rejoiced to make plain unto Men in his Book called Hieroglyphics, the first Quality of Art is its Ecstasy. So, to nigh all Men at one Time or other, cometh Joy of Creation, with the Belief that their Utterance is holy and beautiful, glorious with Banners. This would indeed be the Case, an we could discern their Thought from their Words; but because they have no technical Skill to express themselves, the do not enable others to reproduce or recreate the original Passion which inspired them, or even any Memory thereof. Understand then what is the Agony of the Great Soul who hath every Key of Paradise at his Girdle, when he would open the Gate of Holiness, or of Beauty, or any Virtue soever, to the Men of his Age!
