_V._ Your objection is answered with an ease which is nearly in
      the ratio of its apparent unanswerability.—As regards the
      progress of the star, it can make no difference whether the star
      passes through the ether _or the ether through it_. There is no
      astronomical error more unaccountable than that which reconciles
      the known retardation of the comets with the idea of their
      passage through an ether: for, however rare this ether be
      supposed, it would put a stop to all sidereal revolution in a
      very far briefer period than has been admitted by those
      astronomers who have endeavored to slur over a point which they
      found it impossible to comprehend. The retardation actually
      experienced is, on the other hand, about that which might be
      expected from the _friction_ of the ether in the instantaneous
      passage through the orb. In the one case, the retarding force is
      momentary and complete within itself—in the other it is endlessly
      accumulative. _P._ But in all this—in this identification of mere matter with
      God—is there nothing of irreverence? [_I was forced to repeat
      this question before the sleep-waker fully comprehended my
      meaning_.] _V._ Can you say _why_ matter should be less reverenced than
      mind? But you forget that the matter of which I speak is, in all
      respects, the very “mind” or “spirit” of the schools, so far as
      regards its high capacities, and is, moreover, the “matter” of
      these schools at the same time. God, with all the powers
      attributed to spirit, is but the perfection of matter. _P._ You assert, then, that the unparticled matter, in motion, is
      thought? _V._ In general, this motion is the universal thought of the
      universal mind. This thought creates. All created things are but
      the thoughts of God. _P._ You say, “in general.”

      _V._ Yes. The universal mind is God. For new individualities,
      _matter_ is necessary. _P._ But you now speak of “mind” and “matter” as do the
      metaphysicians. _V._ Yes—to avoid confusion. When I say “mind,” I mean the
      unparticled or ultimate matter; by “matter,” I intend all else. _P._ You were saying that “for new individualities matter is
      necessary.”

      _V._ Yes; for mind, existing unincorporate, is merely God. To
      create individual, thinking beings, it was necessary to incarnate
      portions of the divine mind. Thus man is individualized. Divested
      of corporate investiture, he were God. Now, the particular motion
      of the incarnated portions of the unparticled matter is the
      thought of man; as the motion of the whole is that of God. _P._ You say that divested of the body man will be God? _V._ [_After much hesitation._] I could not have said this; it is
      an absurdity. _P._ [_Referring to my notes._] You _did_ say that “divested of
      corporate investiture man were God.”

      _V._ And this is true. Man thus divested _would be_ God—would be
      unindividualized. But he can never be thus divested—at least
      never _will be_—else we must imagine an action of God returning
      upon itself—a purposeless and futile action. Man is a creature. Creatures are thoughts of God. It is the nature of thought to be
      irrevocable. _P._ I do not comprehend. You say that man will never put off the
      body? _V._ I say that he will never be bodiless. _P._ Explain. _V._ There are two bodies—the rudimental and the complete;
      corresponding with the two conditions of the worm and the
      butterfly. What we call “death,” is but the painful
      metamorphosis. Our present incarnation is progressive,
      preparatory, temporary. Our future is perfected, ultimate,
      immortal. The ultimate life is the full design. _P._ But of the worm’s metamorphosis we are palpably cognizant. _V._ _We_, certainly—but not the worm. The matter of which our
      rudimental body is composed, is within the ken of the organs of
      that body; or, more distinctly, our rudimental organs are adapted
      to the matter of which is formed the rudimental body; but not to
      that of which the ultimate is composed. The ultimate body thus
      escapes our rudimental senses, and we perceive only the shell
      which falls, in decaying, from the inner form; not that inner
      form itself; but this inner form, as well as the shell, is
      appreciable by those who have already acquired the ultimate life. _P._ You have often said that the mesmeric state very nearly
      resembles death. How is this? _V._ When I say that it resembles death, I mean that it resembles
      the ultimate life; for when I am entranced the senses of my
      rudimental life are in abeyance, and I perceive external things
      directly, without organs, through a medium which I shall employ
      in the ultimate, unorganized life. _P._ Unorganized? _V._ Yes; organs are contrivances by which the individual is
      brought into sensible relation with particular classes and forms
      of matter, to the exclusion of other classes and forms. The
      organs of man are adapted to his rudimental condition, and to
      that only; his ultimate condition, being unorganized, is of
      unlimited comprehension in all points but one—the nature of the
      volition of God—that is to say, the motion of the unparticled
      matter. You will have a distinct idea of the ultimate body by
      conceiving it to be entire brain. This it is _not_; but a
      conception of this nature will bring you near a comprehension of
      what it _is_. A luminous body imparts vibration to the
      luminiferous ether. The vibrations generate similar ones within
      the retina; these again communicate similar ones to the optic
      nerve. The nerve conveys similar ones to the brain; the brain,
      also, similar ones to the unparticled matter which permeates it. The motion of this latter is thought, of which perception is the
      first undulation. This is the mode by which the mind of the
      rudimental life communicates with the external world; and this
      external world is, to the rudimental life, limited, through the
      idiosyncrasy of its organs. But in the ultimate, unorganized
      life, the external world reaches the whole body, (which is of a
      substance having affinity to brain, as I have said,) with no
      other intervention than that of an infinitely rarer ether than
      even the luminiferous; and to this ether—in unison with it—the
      whole body vibrates, setting in motion the unparticled matter
      which permeates it. It is to the absence of idiosyncratic organs,
      therefore, that we must attribute the nearly unlimited perception
      of the ultimate life. To rudimental beings, organs are the cages
      necessary to confine them until fledged. _P._ You speak of rudimental “beings.” Are there other rudimental
      thinking beings than man?