For, in the language of Heraclitus, the virtuous soul is pure and unmixed light, springing from the body as a flash of lightning darts from the cloud. But the soul that is carnal and immersed in sense, like a heavy and dank vapor, can with difficulty be kindled, and caused to raise its eyes heavenward.
PlutarchLamentation is the only musician that always, like a screech-owl, alights and sits on the roof of any angry man.
Plutarch