Prompt: For my own part, I have never had a thought which I could not set down in words, with even more distinctness than that with which I conceived it. There is, however, a class of fancies, of exquisite delicacy, which are not thoughts, and to which, as yet, I have found it absolutely impossible to adapt to language. These fancies arise in the soul (alas, how rarely!) only at epochs of most intense tranquility -- when the bodily and mental health are in perfection -- and at those mere points of time where the confines of the waking world blend with the world of dreams. And so, I captured this fancy, where all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream.
Negative prompt: embedding:bad-hands-5 embedding:FastNegativeV2