Clouds (1.2.1664)

To the coffee-house, where I heard Lieutenant-Collonell Baron tell

very good stories of his travels over the high hills in Asia a bove

the cloudes. How clear the heaven is above them. How thick, like a

mist, the way is through the cloud, that wets like a sponge one's

clothes. The ground above the clouds all dry and parched, nothing in

the world growing, it being only a dry earth. Yet not so hot above as

below the clouds. The stars at night most delicate bright and a fine

clear blue sky. But cannot see the earth at any time through the

clouds, but the clouds look like a world below you.