Green changed to white, emerald to opal. Nothing was changed. Through the blackness of the present he saw the luminous tiger eyes of the things to be. But he drank opaline. He saw blue vistas of undiscovered countries, high prospects and a quiet, caressing sea and tomorrow shone like a white star. Nothing was changed. He drank opaline. The man had known the obscure night of the soul and lay even now in the valley of humiliation and the tiger menace of the things to be was red in the skies. But for a little while he had forgotten. Green changed to white, emerald to opal. Nothing was changed. (Absinthe, La Folie Verte)