“And suddenly, the forgotten melody of that quiet passage in the woodwind came back to me. Like a little radiant soap bubble it rose up inside me, reflecting the whole world in colorful miniature, before gently dispersing again. If it had been possible for this heavenly secret to put down roots in my soul and one day to blossom forth in me again in all its lovely colors could I be totally lost? Even if I was a strong animal, unable to understand its environment, my foolish life did have some meaning. There was something in me that responded to things, was receptive to calls from distant worlds above. My brain was a storehouse of a thousand images.”