Till We Have Faces, p.308 C.S. Lewis The most dreadful, the most beautiful, the only dread and beauty there is, was coming. The pillars on the far side of the pool flushed with his approach. I cast down my eyes. Two figures, reflections, their feet to Psyches feet and mine, stood head downward in the water. But whose were they? Two Psyches, the one clothed, the other naked? Yes, both Psyches, both beautiful (if that mattered now) beyond all imagining, yet not exactly the same. You also are Psyche, came a great voice. I looked up then, and its strange that I dared. But I saw no god, no pillared court. I was in the palace gardens, my foolish book in my hand. The vision to the eye had, I think, faded one moment before the oracle to the ear. For the words were still sounding.
Posted on: Mon, 20 Oct 2014 03:35:59 +0000
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