Man sleeps—like the rocks, trees, hills—while all around him, out of the unseen, beating on blind eyes, deaf ears, numbed brain, sweep the winds of eternity, the ether waves, the signals from the deeps of space!
Warner
Hey, diddle, diddle!
Philo
Sleep-walkers all—the people in the streets, the shops—the mad people with their heaps of gold!
Mrs. W.
Now don't work yourself up, Philo, with the doctor coming. You want to tell him about your machine.
Philo
Yes. He is a great man. He has studied these things. I will talk to him. He will not laugh.