The real terror is not that 'we're here—we're gone'; the real terror is that we might never go.
When Shelley talks about life (consciousness, he means) 'staining' the white radiance of eternity, I wonder if he means something along these lines ... every washerwoman or washerman knows that there are some stains that you simply can't get rid of, no matter how assiduously you scrub.
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