fling　myselfback　into　another　age；　or　to　insist　on　creating　the　semblance　of　aworld　out　of　airy　matter；　when；　at　every　moment；　the　impalpable　beautyof　my　soap…bubble　was　broken　by　the　rude　contact　of　some　actualcircumstance。　The　wiser　effort　would　have　been；　to　diffuse　thought　andimagination　through　the　opaque　substance　of　to…day；　and　thus　to　makeit　a　bright　transparency；　to　spiritualise　the　burden　that　began　toweigh　so　heavily；　to　seek；　resolutely；　the　true　and　indestructiblevalue　that　lay　hidden　in　the　petty　and　wearisome　incidents；　andordinary　characters；　with　which　I　was　now　conversant。　The　fault　wasmine。　The　page　of　life　that　was　spread　out　before　me　seemed　dull　andmonplace；　only　because　I　had　not　fathomed　its　deeper　import。　Abetter　book　than　I　shall　ever　write　was　there；　leaf　after　leafpresenting　itself　to　me；　just　as　it　was　written　out　by　the　realityof　the　flitting　hour；　and　vanishing　as　fast　as　written；　only　becausemy　brain　wanted　the　insight　and　my　hand　the　cunning　to　transcribeit。　At　some　future　day；　it　may　be；　I　shall　remember　a　few　scatteredfragments　and　broken　paragraphs；　and　write　them　down；　and　find　theletters　turn　to　gold　upon　the　page。 These　perceptions　have　e　too　late。　At　the　instant；　I　was　onlyconscious　that　what　would　have　been　a　pleasure　once　was　now　a　hopelesstoil。　There　was　no　occasion　to　make　much　moan　about　this　state　ofaffairs。　I　had　ceased　to　be　a　writer　of　tolerably　poor　tales　andessays；　and　had　bee　a　tolerably　good　Surveyor　of　the　Customs。That　w