and one sees faces. Faces are worlds to me. However
hard I try, I cannot get a man, somehow, any smaller than a world. He is
a world to himself, and God helping me, when I deal with him, he shall
be a world to me. The dignity of a world rests upon him. His face is a
sum-total of the universe. It is made by the passing of the infinite
through his body. It is the mark of all things that are, upon his flesh.

What I like to believe is, that if there is an organic principle of
unity like this in a little human life, if there is some way of summing
up a universe in a man's face, there must be some way of summing it up,
of putting it together in his education. It is this summing a universe
up for one's self, and putting it together for one's self, and for one's
own use, which makes an education in a universe worth while.

In other words, with a symbol as convenient, as near to him as his own
face, a man need not go far in seeking for a principle of unity in
focusing education. A man's face makes it seem not unreasonable to claim
that the principle of unity in all education is the man, that the single
human soul is created to be its own dome of all knowledge. A man's
education may be said to be properly laid out in proportion as it is
laid out the way he lays out his countenance. The method or process by
which a man's countenance is laid out is a kind of daily organic process
of world-swallowing. What a man undertakes in living is the making over
of all phenomena, outer sights and sounds into his own inner ones, the
passing of all outside knowledge through himself. In proportion as he is
being educated he is making all things that are, into his own flesh and
spirit.

When one looks at it in this way it is not too much to say that every
man is a world. He makes the tiny platform of his soul in infinite
space, a stage for worlds to come to, to play their parts on. His soul
is a little All-show, a kind of dainty pantomime of the universe.

* * * * *

It seemed that I stood and watched a world awake, the great night still
upbearing me above the flood of the day. I watched it strangely, as a
changed being, the godlikeness and the might of sleep, the spell of the
All upon me. I became as one who saw the earth as it is, in a high noon
of its real self. Hung in its mist of worlds, wrapped in its own breath,
I saw it--a queer little ball of cooled-off fire, it seemed, still and
swift plunging through