ONE evening about this time, on coming indoors for tea, I found the old
man seated at the open door that looked on to the lawn, with a book on
his knees, and his finger between the pages. He held the book towards me
as I came near him, and showed me the title, “The Interior Castle.”
“I have just been reading,” he said, “Saint Teresa’s description of the
difference between the intellectual and the imaginative vision. It is
curious how she fails really to express it, except to any one who
happens to have had a glimpse already for himself of what she means. I
suppose it is one of the signs of reality in the spiritual world that no
one can ever describe so much as he knows.”