A Voyage to Arcturus is a deeply moving book. Something much more than the passions are moved by it however, the book is a truth serum, a sacred codex of anamnesis. It remains the most affecting text I’ve come across. The more time that elapses since having read it, the deeper this conviction sinks. The kinds of truth that are intimated by it are like fathomless monoliths embedded so deep and wide into the substrata of consciousness that one cannot hope to apprehend them, only to sightlessly palpate them, taste them, commune with them, to pick up the vague vibratory echoes that trail out from their subterranean lairs.