nstead of accumulation.
Looking at existence from this special
point of view (which indeed is a difficult one
to maintain for long, as we habitually look
at life in planes and forget the great lines
which connect and run through these), we
immediately perceive it to be reasonable to
suppose that as we advance beyond our present
standpoint the power of growth by assimilation
will become greater and probably change into
a method yet more rapid, easy, and unconscious.
The universe is, in fact, full of magnificent
promise for us, if we will but lift our
eyes and see. It is that lifting of the eyes
which is the first need and the first difficulty;
we are so apt readily to be content with
what we see within touch of our hands. It is
the essential characteristic of the man of genius
that he is comparatively indifferent to that
fruit which is just within touch, and hungers
for that which is afar on the hills. In fact
he does not need the sense of contact to arouse
longing. He knows that this distant fruit,
which he perceives without the aid of the
physical senses, is a subtler and a stronger
food than any which appeals to them. And
how is he rewarded! When he tastes that
fruit, how strong and sweet is its flavor, and
what a new sense of life rushes upon him!
For in recognising that flavor he has recognised
the existence of the subtile senses, those
which feed the life of the inner man; and it is
by the strength of that inner man, and by his
strength only, that the latch of the Golden
Gates can be lifted.

In fact it is only by the development and
growth of the inner man that the existence
of these Gates, and of that to which they
admit, can be even perceived. While man is
content with his gross senses and cares nothing
for his subtile ones, the Gates remain literally
invisible. As to the boor the gateway of the
intellectual life is as a thing uncreate and
non-existent, so to the man of the gross senses,
even if his intellectual life is active, that which
lies beyond is uncreate and non-existent, only
because he does not open the book.

To the servant who dusts the scholar's
library the closed volumes are meaningless;
they do not even appear to contain a promise
unless he also is a scholar, not merely a servant.
It is possible to gaze throughout eternity
upon a shut exterior from sheer indolence,--mental
indolence, which is incredulity, and
which at last men learn to pride themselves
on; they call it sceptici