To fly! The very thought sets the nerves atingle. It is joy to be afloat, “with a wet sheet and a flowing sea and a wind that follows fast.” It is a joy to be on the back of a swiftly running horse, with the wind rushing away from your face as you ride, bearing every care from your brainBut to traverse the air—to fly! This joy we long for: we have an indisputable, an inalienable right to long for it. To what heights may we rise? This, after all, is the question that concerns us. Sordid, creeping wights that we are, constantlyreferring our heavenward aspiration to the desire of the mortal, we still
“To man propose this test—Thy body, at its best,How far can that project its soul on its lone way?”
“To man propose this test—Thy body, at its best,How far can that project its soul on its lone way?”
“To man propose this test—Thy body, at its best,How far can that project its soul on its lone way?”
“To man propose this test—
Thy body, at its best,
How far can that project its soul on its lone way?”