"The rest of creation!" says she. "Some folks is born in the world
feeling and knowing it in their hearts that creation don't stop where
the sight of the eyes stop, and the thinner the veil is the better, and
something in them sickens when the veil gets too thick."
"You talk like you believed in spooks and God knows what," I says, but
more to make myself comfortable than anything else.
"You know what I mean, Jane McQuarry," says she. "There's very few
folks, especially older ones, who haven't sometimes felt the veil get
thinner and thinner until you could see the light shining through. But
we've been brought up to think such ideas are silly and to be ashamed of
'em and only to believe in what we can touch and taste and, in spite of
stars shining every night over our heads, to think creation stops with
heavy things like us. And how anyone who's ever seen a fish swimming in
the water can think that--I don't know. What do they know of us and how
can they imagine folks on legs walking around and breathing the air that
makes 'em die? So why aren't there creatures, all kind of 'em, we can no
more see than a fish can us?"