- end_line
- 5271
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:48:52.921Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 5249
- text
- talked--I needs must think--if indeed I have any real thought about so
bodiless a phantom as this is--they talked the language which I speak of
as at this time gradually waning in me. It was a bonny tongue; oh, seems
to me so sparkling-gay and lightsome; just the tongue for a child like
me, if the child had not been so sad always. It was pure children's
language, Pierre; so twittering--such a chirp.
"In thy own mind, thou must now perceive, that most of these dim
remembrances in me, hint vaguely of a ship at sea. But all is dim and
vague to me. Scarce know I at any time whether I tell you real things,
or the unrealest dreams. Always in me, the solidest things melt into
dreams, and dreams into solidities. Never have I wholly recovered from
the effects of my strange early life. This it is, that even now--this
moment--surrounds thy visible form, my brother, with a mysterious
mistiness; so that a second face, and a third face, and a fourth face
peep at me from within thy own. Now dim, and more dim, grows in me all
the memory of how thou and I did come to meet. I go groping again amid
all sorts of shapes, which part to me; so that I seem to advance through
the shapes; and yet the shapes have eyes that look at me. I turn round,
and they look at me; I step forward, and they look at me.--Let me be
silent now; do not speak to me."
- title
- Chunk 4