Transfigured Ugliness—See [Beauty in Common Life].
TRANSFORMATION
When Central Park, New York, was laid out the engineers encountered an immense heap of rocks. What to do with it was the question. To move it would cost thousands of dollars. Finally, honeysuckles and other vines were planted about it and made to climb up and shade it. And now that spot in the park is the loveliest and most fragrant anywhere about.
The best education is that which in like manner makes use of even unlovely traits in building character.
(3271)
The emergence of the soul clothed in its spiritual body is suggested by this account of the May-flies by Vernon L. Kellogg:
Young May-flies—the ones that don’t get eaten by dragons, stone-flies, water-tigers, and other May-flies—grow larger slowly, and wing-pads begin to grow on their backs. In a year, maybe, or two years for some kinds, they are ready for their great change. And this comes very suddenly. Some late afternoon or early evening thousands of young May-flies of the same kind, living in the same lake or river, swim up to the surface of the water, and, after resting there a few moments, suddenly split their skin along the back of the head and perhaps a little way farther along the back, and like a flash squirm out of this old skin, spread out their gauzy wings and fly away.—“Insect Stories.”
(3272)