As he passed people rushing by the scores of thousands on the streets, he saw the glory of their faces. He saw in the way their eyes were set--in their reddened cheeks, and in their expressions of hope, determination, or anger--whatever it was that made them more than skeletons and flesh, for the life in their faces far transcended the material into which it had strayed. And yet if he were to grasp for it, all he would have would be the lapels of a coat and a startled and fearful pedestrian inside. Though the light he sought was shining all around, he could not capture it.