And the voices say with them: We are your kinsmen. The world, it seems, is drearier than even you, Lynch, imagined. The attitude of rapture in sacred art, the raised and parted hands, the parted lips and eyes as of one about to swoon, became for him an image of the soul in prayer, humiliated and faint before her Creator. Never has there been seen in the institutions of the separate members of any confederacy more elements of discord.
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