"He must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream.
He must have looked up at an unfamiliar sky through frightening leaves and
shivered as he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass.
A new world, material without being real, where poor ghosts, breathing dreams like air, drifted fortuitously about...
like that ashen, fantastic figure gliding toward him through the amorphous trees."