The phenomenon is perpetually returning upon itself.
In the vast cosmic exchanges the universal life goes and comes in unknown quantities, rolling entirely in the invisible mystery of effluvia, employing everything, not losing a single dream, not a single slumber, sowing an animalcule here, crumbling to bits a planet there, oscillating and winding, making of light a force and of thought an element, disseminated and invisible, dissolving all, except that geometrical point, the I; bringing everything back to the soul-atom; expanding everything in God, entangling all activity, from summit to base, in the obscurity of a dizzy mechanism, attaching the flight of an insect to the movement of the earth, subordinating, who knows?
Were it only by the identity of the law, the evolution of the comet in the firmament to the whirling of the infusoria in the drop of water.
A machine made of mind. Enormous gearing, the prime motor of which is the gnat, and whose final wheel is the zodiac.
BOOK THIRD.--THE HOUSE IN THE RUE PLUMET