[Perolat:]“But you haven't given Gaia a chance, Golan. —Look, old chap, let me admit something. When Bliss and I are intimate, she sometimes lets me share her mind for a minute or so. Not for more than that because she says I'm too old to adapt to it. —Oh, don't grin, Golan, you would be too old for it, too. If an Isolate, such as you or I, were to remain part of Gaia for more, than a minute or two, there might be brain damage and if it's as much as five or ten minutes, it would be irreversible. —If you could only experience it, Golan.”

[Golan:]“What? Irreversible brain damage? No, thanks.”

[Perolat:]“Golan, you're deliberately misunderstanding me. I mean, just that small moment of union. You don't know what you're missing. It's indescribable. Bliss says there's a sense of joy. That's like saying there's a sense of joy when you finally drink a bit of water after you have all but died of thirst. I couldn't even begin to tell you what it's like. You share all the pleasures that a billion people separately experience. It isn't a steady joy; if it were you would quickly stop feeling it. It vibrates—twinkles—has a strange pulsing rhythm that doesn't let you go. It's more joy—no, not more—it's a better joy than you could ever experience separately. I could weep when she shuts the door on me—”