A man who can destroy illusions is both beast and flood. Illusions are to the soul what atmosphere is to the earth. Roll up that tender air and the plant dies, the colour fades. The earth we walk on is a parched cinder. It is marl we tread and fiery cobbles scorch our feet. By the truth we are undone. Life is a dream. 'Tis walking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs us of life -- (and so on for six pages if you will, but the style is tedious and may well be dropped).
- Fra Orlando av Virginia Woolf