Explore "Phantastes" by George MacDonald on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"We are ne'er like angels till our passions die. " DECKAR.
"This wretched _Inn_, where we scarce stay to bait, We call our _Dwelling-Place_: We call one _Step a Race_: But angels in their full enlightened state, Angels, who _Live_, and know what ‘tis to _Be_, Who all the nonsense of our language see, Who speak _things_, and our _words_, their ill-drawn _pictures_, scorn, When we, by a foolish figure, say, _Behold an old man dead! _ then they Speak properly, and cry, _Behold a man-child born! _" COWLEY.