A million hearts here wait our call, — Electricity

"Sir William Grove... in a lecture at the London Institution, in 1842, was the first to show that "heat, light, may be considered as affections of matter itself, and not of a distinct ethereal, imponderable, fluid [a state of matter now] permeating it." Yet, perhaps, for some Physicists... Force and Forces were tacitly "Spirit [and hence Spirits] in Nature." What several rather mystical Scientists taught was that light, heat, magnetism, electricity and gravity, etc., were not the final Causes of the visible phenomena, including planetary motion, but were themselves the secondary effects of other Causes, for which Science in our day cares very little, but in which Occultism believes; for the Occultists have exhibited proofs of the validity of their claims in every age. And in what age were there no Occultists and no Adepts? p. 525"

"We have an important scientific corroboration for one of our fundamental dogmas — namely, that (a) the Sun is the store-house of Vital Force, which is the Noumenon of Electricity; and {b) that it is from its mysterious, never-to-be-fathomed depths, that issue those lifecurrents which thrill through Space, as through the organisms of every living thing on Earth. p. 579"

"The Nasmyth willow leaves, mistaken by Sir John Herschell for "solar inhabitants," are the reservoirs of solar vital energy; "the vital electricity that feeds the whole system; the sun in abscondito ;being thus the storehouse of our little Cosmos, self-generating its vital fluid, and ever receiving as much as it gives out," and the visible Sun only a window cut into the real solar palace and presence, which, however, shews without distortion the interior work. p. 592"

"Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound."

"Is it a fact—or have I dreamt it—that by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time? Rather, the round globe is a vast head, a brain, instinct with intelligence: or shall we say it is itself a thought, nothing but thought, and no longer the substance which we dreamed it."

"Eripuit cælo fulmen, mox sceptra tyrannis."