....Desire Itself.
One may ask, indeed, the thinking person MUST ask, how can it be that something so ephemeral, something so insubstantial as desire be the key ingredient? Desire! With no more of a tangible presence than the sigh of an over-full soul, a pilgrim's furtive look, the mendicant's howl. Surely, mood can make no contribution to the world of real things!
But it was in these moments, when such a reasonable, such an obvious and rational query was laid before Herman, that the poetry in his nature burned most brightly. He fixed his questioner with the obdurate, unblinking eye of a raven which has spied its prey: "Does not desire clutch at our hearts, catch in our throats, fix in our minds with undoubtable presence? It is as real, nay, realer than you are sir, for it flavors all of life!"