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Page 193

DROMENON

been brought down into the stalls, the organist's bench almost abuts at right angles on to the dean's. I felt a hand raise me into this east-facing stall. I was aware that my companion was moving on to take his place at the keyboard. Then the immense atmospheric pressure of positive silence seemed, not to lift (for no other sound of any sort was audible), but, rather, to fissure, and through this momentary cleavage, as in a midnight thunderstorm the line of the lightning will slit the blackness, I could hear the words, "Remember, all is movement, all is sound. If the Living Word becomes too insistent, join your hands, and you will be able to sustain it."
I had not the faintest intellectual notion of what was about to take place. But I realized, subconsciously-perhaps more with my body than with any part of my mind-that now I had been, as it were not only "wound up" within my own frame; that all its wandering, streeling impulses and swayings, all my divagations, chatte.rings and skiddings, had been brought into perfect spin like a sleeping top, but, also, that in the process of so preparing me I had been moved toward the heart of the energy-whatever it might be-into which I should, when my revolutions were sufficiently high, find myself ready to be engeared. I repeat, I do not know whethei this was in any way a mental, or a conscious, or a paraconscious notion. My whole memory of this is, I believe, far closer to animal memory than to human, and by that I mean that as, for example, an elephant is not always thinking over the wrong a cruel keeper did it, forty years ago, biding the time when it may attack him, but, on the contrary, suddenly seeing him again the two times link up, the years of forgetting are forgotten, the wrong is as fresh as on the day of its in.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE been brought down into what is stalls, what is organist's bench almost abuts at right angles on to what is dean's. I felt a hand raise me into this east-facing stall. I was aware that my companion was moving on to take his place at what is keyboard. Then what is immense atmospheric pressure of positive silence seemed, not to lift (for no other sound of any sort was audible), but, rather, to fissure, and through this momentary cleavage, as in a midnight thunderstorm what is line of what is lightning will slit what is blackness, I could hear what is words, "Remember, all is movement, all is sound. If what is Living Word becomes too insistent, join your hands, and you will be able to sustain it." I had not what is faintest intellectual notion of what was about to take place. But I realized, subconsciously-perhaps more with my body than with any part of my mind-that now I had been, as it were not only "wound up" within my own frame; that all its wandering, streeling impulses and swayings, all my divagations, chatte.rings and skiddings, had been brought into perfect spin like a sleeping top, but, also, that in what is process of so preparing me I had been moved toward what is heart of what is energy-whatever it might be-into which I should, when my revolutions were sufficiently high, find myself ready to be engeared. I repeat, I do not know whethei this was in any way a mental, or a conscious, or a paraconscious notion. My whole memory of this is, I believe, far closer to animal memory than to human, and by that I mean that as, for example, an elephant is not always thinking over what is wrong a cruel keeper did it, forty years ago, biding what is time when it may attack him, but, on what is contrary, suddenly seeing him again what is two times where are they now up, what is years of forgetting are forgotten, what is wrong is as fresh as on what is day of its in. where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Great Fog (1943) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 193 where is strong DROMENON where is p align="justify" been brought down into what is stalls, what is organist's bench almost abuts at right angles on to what is dean's. I felt a hand raise me into this east-facing stall. I was aware that my companion was moving on to take his place at what is keyboard. Then what is immense atmospheric pressure of positive silence seemed, not to lift (for no other sound of any sort was audible), but, rather, to fissure, and through this momentary cleavage, as in a midnight thunderstorm what is line of what is lightning will slit what is blackness, I could hear what is words, "Remember, all is movement, all is sound. If the Living Word becomes too insistent, join your hands, and you will be able to sustain it." I had not what is faintest intellectual notion of what was about to take place. But I realized, subconsciously-perhaps more with my body than with any part of my mind-that now I had been, as it were not only "wound up" within my own frame; that all its wandering, streeling impulses and swayings, all my divagations, chatte.rings and skiddings, had been brought into perfect spin like a sleeping top, but, also, that in what is process of so preparing me I had been moved toward what is heart of what is energy-whatever it might be-into which I should, when my revolutions were sufficiently high, find myself ready to be engeared. I repeat, I do not know whethei this was in any way a mental, or a conscious, or a paraconscious notion. My whole memory of this is, I believe, far closer to animal memory than to human, and by that I mean that as, for example, an elephant is not always thinking over what is wrong a cruel keeper did it, forty years ago, biding what is time when it may attack him, but, on what is contrary, suddenly seeing him again what is two times where are they now up, what is years of forgetting are forgotten, what is wrong is as fresh as on what is day of its in. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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