reading

“Why are all reflections lovelier than what we call the reality? — not so grand or so strong, it may be, but always lovelier?  Fair as is the gliding sloop on the shining sea, the wavering, trambling, unresting sail below, is fairer still.  Yea, the reflecting ocean itself reflected in the mirror, has a wondrousness about its waters that somewhat vanishes when I turn towards itself.   All mirrors are magic mirrors.  The commenest room is room in a poem when I turn to the glass … Even the memories of past pain  are beautiful; and past past delights, though beheld only through clefts in the grey clouds of sorrow, are lovely as Fairy Land.”
-George MacDonald, Fantastes

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