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The Book of the Damned
·
Charles Fort
261
Beings
massed
like
the
clouds
of
souls,
or
the
commingling
whiffs
of
spirituality,
or
the
exhalations
of
souls
that
Dore
pictured
so
often.
It
may
be
that
the
Milky
Way
is
a
composition
of
stiff,
frozen,
finally-static,
absolute
angels.
We
shall
have
data
of
little
Milky
Ways,
moving
swiftly;
or
data
of
hosts
of
angels,
not
absolute,
or
still
dynamic.
I
suspect,
myself,
that
the
fixed
stars
are
really
fixed,
and
that
the
minute
motions
said
to
have
been
detected
in
them
are
illusions.
I
think
that
the
fixed
stars
are
absolutes.
Their
twinkling
is
only
the
interpretation
by
an
intermediatist
state
of
them.
I
think
that
soon
after
Leverrier
died,
a
new
fixed
star
was
discovered--that,
if
Dr.
Gray
had
stuck
to
his
story
of
the
thousands
of
fishes
from
one
pail
of
water,
had
written
upon
it,
lectured
upon
it,
taken
to
street
corners,
to
convince
the
world
that,
whether
conceivable
or
not,
his
explanation
was
the
only
true
explanation:
had
thought
of
nothing
but
this
last
thing
at
night
and
first
thing
in
the
morning--his
obituary--another
"nova"
reported
in
Monthly
Notices.
I
think
that
Milky
Ways,
of
an
inferior,
or
dynamic,
order,
have
often
been
seen
by
astronomers.
Of
course
it
may
be
that
the
phenomena
that
we
shall
now
consider
are
not
angels
at
all.
We
are
simply
feeling
around,
trying
to
find
out
what
we
can
accept.
Some
of
our
data
indicate
hosts
of
rotund
and
complacent
tourists
in
inter-planetary
space--but
then
data
of
long,
lean,
hungry
ones.
I
think
that
there
are,
out
in
inter-planetary
space,
Super
Tamerlanes
at
the
head
of
hosts
of
celestial
ravagers--which
have
come
here
and
pounced
upon
civilizations
of
the
past,
cleaning
them
up
all
but
their
bones,
or
temples
and
monuments--for
which
later
historians
have
invented
exclusionist
histories.
But
if
something
now
has
a
legal
right
to
us,
and
can
enforce
its
proprietorship,
they've
been
warned
off.
It's
the
way
of
all
exploitation.
I
should
say
that
we're
now
under
cultivation:
that
we're
conscious
of
it,
but
have
the
impertinence
to
attribute
it
all
to
our
own
nobler
and
higher
instincts.
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