Swedenborg was a man of great intellect, of vast acquirements, and of
honest intentions; and I think it equally clear that upon one subject,
at least, his mind was touched, shattered and shaken. Misled by
analogies, imposed upon by the bishop, deceived by the woman, borne to
other worlds upon the wings of dreams, living in the twilight of reason
and the dawn of insanity, he regarded every fact as a patched and ragged
garment with a lining of the costliest silk, and insisted that the wrong
side, even of the silk, was far more beautiful than the right.