God, you see, is a word. It is the word for everything not speaking when someone says 'I think.' And by Propper's Law of Inverse Exclusion (which enables a flea in a matchbox to declare itself jailor of the universe) every single 'I think' has intimate knowledge of the surface of what it is not. But as every thinker reflects a different surface of what he isn't, and as God is our word for the whole, it follows that all agreement about God is based on misunderstanding.
And from Lore of Proserpine by Maurice Hewlett:
Who knows what his neighbor sees? Who knows what his dog? Every species of us walks secret from the others; every species of us the centre of his universe, its staple of measure, and its final cause. And if at times one is granted a peep into new heavens and a new earth, and can get no more, perhaps the best thing we win from that is the conviction that we must doubt nothing and wonder at everything.
The latter is a strange 1913 book by a novelist who claimed to see fairies. It's a great companion to Dora Van Gelder's The Real World of Fairies, and I've just added it to my books page, along with Michael Talbot's The Holographic Universe, which I'm now reading for the third time.
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