I found myself walking beneath a bank of tall trees on a perfectly still sunny morning. The light broke between their bare trunks in long dazzling fragments filled with insects. It was delightful—delectable. And I thought what we usually think at times like this: this is marvellous, peaceful, I feel at one with things, this is something to do with reality. And I knew even as I thought those things that I was wrong. Reality does not come via our senses. Sensations come via our senses and they are merely sensations of the world in which we live. Reality is something beyond this and no matter how perfect an experience like this may seem, it remains based only on the imperfection of the world of sensation.
