The soul of man, left to its own natural level, is a potentially lucid crystal left in darkness. It is perfect in its own nature, but it lacks something that it can only receive from outside and above itself. But when the light shines in it, it becomes in a manner transformed into light and seems to lose its nature in the splendor of a higher nature, the nature of the light that is in it.
I'm reading The Seven Storey Mountain for the first time, something I've been meaning to do for maybe thirty years. And it's really good. Sorry I didn't get to it sooner.