conjecture other vaster and infinite bodies which have no being.
Such empty husks was I then fed on; and was not fed. But Thou, my
soul's Love, in looking for whom I fail, that I may become strong, art
neither those bodies which we see, though in heaven; nor those which
we see not there; for Thou hast created them, nor dost Thou account
them among the chiefest of Thy works. How far then art Thou from those
fantasies of mine, fantasies of bodies which altogether are not,
than which the images of those bodies, which are, are far more
certain, and more certain still the bodies themselves, which yet
Thou art not; no, nor yet the soul, which is the life of the bodies.
So then, better and more certain is the life of the bodies than the
bodies. But Thou art the life of souls, the life of lives, having life
in Thyself; and changest not, life of my soul.

Where then wert Thou then to me, and how far from me? Far verily was
I straying from Thee, barred from the very husks of the swine, whom
with husks I fed. For how much better are the fables of poets and
grammarians than these snares? For verses, and poems, and "Medea
flying," are more profitable truly than these men's five elements,
variously disguised, answering to five dens of darkness, which have no
being, yet slay the believer. For verses and poems I can turn to
true food, and "Medea flying," though I did sing, I maintained not;
though I heard it sung, I believed not: but those things I did
believe. Woe, woe, by what steps was I brought down to the depths of
hell! toiling and turmoiling through want of Truth, since I sought
after Thee, my God (to Thee I confess it, who hadst mercy on me, not
as yet confessing), not according to the understanding of the mind,
wherein Thou willedst that I should excel the beasts, but according to
the sense of the flesh. But Thou wert more inward to me than my most
inward part; and higher than my highest. I lighted upon that bold