ABSTRACT
The rain that raineth every day, the men who shut their gates against knaves and thieves, the world that began a great while ago, are like disconnected memories, or portents, troubling the mind of a child. In the Tragedies they come out of the twilight, and are hard and real in the broad light of day. We have been accustomed to escape from these miseries by waking, but now the last terror confronts us: our dream has come true.
