George MacDonald,
A Dish of Orts : Chiefly Papers on the Imagination…
(1893)
“ No poetry comes by the elevation of prose; but the half of prose comes by the “massing into the common clay” of thousands of winged words, whence, like the lovely shells of by-gone ages, one is occasionally disinterred by some lover of speech, and held up to the light to show the play of colour in its manifold laminations. ”
