The Inner Consciousness by William Walker Atkinson

But, perhaps, the most beautiful expression of this underlying truth, is that of Sir Oliver Lodge, who says in his consideration of the subject: Imagine an iceberg glorying in its crisp solidity, and sparkling pinnacles, resenting attention paid to its sub-merged self, or supporting the region, or to the saline liquid out of which it arose, and into which in due course it will someday return. Or, reversing the metaphor, we may liken our present state to that of the hull of a ship submerged in a dim ocean among strange monsters, propelled in a blind manner through space; proud perhaps of accumulating many barnacles of decoration; only recognizing our destination by bumping against the dock-wall; and with no cognizance of the deck and cabins above us, or the spars and sails-no thought of the sextant, and the compass, and the captain — mo perception of the look-out on the mast — of the distant horizon. With no vision of objects far ahead — dangers to be avoided — destinations to be reached — other ships to be spoken to by means other than by bodily contact — a region of sunshine and cloud, of space, or perception, and of intelligence utterly inaccessible below the water-line.