Nothing voiced-all hisses, a serpent, vengeful, relentless, they raved. Others attested to languages long dead to the world, though of course known to their reporters. The man-shaped light shall not deliver you, it allegedly declared, and, Flames were always your destiny, my children. Its children- Is it worth anyone's while now to journey out those starfish corridors where they suffer, each behind his door of oak and iron, the penance they bear as a condition of that awful
The passage conveys a sense of ominous foreboding and dread, describing voices that hiss and evoke a serpent-like menace. There is an implication of a past long forgotten, as ancient languages are recalled by those who report their existence. The figure of a "man-shaped light" ominously states that it cannot save those who listen, foretelling their fate linked to flames and suffering.
This text raises questions about the value of exploring the painful experiences and burdens carried by individuals, each confined behind their own barriers, akin to doors of oak and iron. It challenges the reader to reflect on whether understanding their suffering is worthwhile in the face of an inevitable, dark destiny, as highlighted through Pynchon's intricate narrative.
