Nor touch, nor taste, nor hearing hast thou now.

Thou livest in a world of signs and types.

The presentations of most holy truths, living and strong, thou hast by right. No converse with aught else beside thyself, but lest so soon a

solitude should load and break thy being in mercy or vouchafed, and lower measures of perception,

which seems to thee as though channels brought through ears or nerves or palate,

which are gone.

And thou art wrapped and swarthed around in dreams, dreams that are true, yet enigmatical,

for the belonging of the present state, save through such symbols, come not home to thee.

And thus thou tellest of space and time and size, of fragrant, solid, bitter, musical, of fire and of refreshment after fire.

And let us use similitude of earth to aid thee in thy knowledge thou dost ask, an ice which blisters

may be said to burn, nor haste now extension with its parts. Correlative, long habit cozenes thee.

Nor power to move thyself, nor limbs to move.

Hast thou not heard of those who, after loss of hand or foot,

still cried that they had pains in hand or foot, as though

they had it still.

Is it now with thee who hast not lost thy hand or foot, but all which made up man.

So will it be until the joyous day of resurrection, when thou wilt regain all thou hast lost,

new made, and glorified. How, even now, the consummated saints see God in heaven,

I may not explicate. Meanwhile, let it suffice thee to possess. Such means of converse are as granted thee.

Though, tell that beautific vision, thou art blind,

for even thy purgatory, which comes like fire, is fire without its light.

One of my favorite Jack Nicholson impressions, it was super quick, was on an SNL thing,

...