Algernon Blackwood

“ As we advanced, the faint voices and sobbings fled away before us into the interior of the house, and I became conscious that the air was full of hands held aloft, of swaying garments, of drooping tresses, and of eyes so sad and wistful that the tears, which were already brimming in my own, held back for wonder at the sight of such yearning and patient sorrow. “Do not allow all this sadness to overwhelm you,” whispered the dream at my side. “It is not often ‘They’ wake. They sleep for years and years and years. ”

“ As a dream within a dream, it steals over me again, taking compelling possession of my whole being⁠ ⁠... the slender form⁠ ⁠... the stars in that magical Eastern sky⁠ ⁠... the winds whispering low among the palm trees⁠ ⁠... the murmur of the river’s waves and the music of the reeds where they bend and sigh in the shallows on the golden sand. ”

“ The wind, like the sea, speaks to the inmost memory,” she added, “and that is why its voice is one of such deep spiritual sadness. It is the song of things forever incomplete, unfinished, unsatisfying.” ”