Now therefore thou seest how Men take the Son of Science, and burn him for a Sorcerer or a Heretic; the Poet and cast him out as Reprobate; the Painter, as deforming Nature, the Musician, as denying Harmony; and so for every New Word. How much more, then, if the Word be of Universal Import, a Word of Revolution and of Revelation in the Deep of the Soul? A new Star; that is for the Astronomers, and maybe setteth them by the Ears. But a new Sun! That were for all Men; and a Seed of Tumult and Upheavel in every Land. Consider in thyself, therefore, what is the Might of the Adepts, the Energy of the Sanctuary, that can endow one Man with the Word of an Aeon, and bring him to the End in Victory, with his Chariot wreathed in Flowers, and his Head bound round with a Fillet of Blood-honoured Laurel! My Son, thou are entered into the Battle; and the Men of our Race and our Clan return not save in Glory.