During his mescalin-induced trip, Huxley endlessly rants about how-beautiful-this, how-marvelous-that, how-intricate... He often uses famous painters and philospheres as reference to describe his eye's captivites. On one particular rant about trouser pants, Huxley references the painter Vermeer. Vermeer, Vermeer, Vermeer. For three pages, Huxley praises the painter, even deeming him "unboubtedly the greatest painter of human still lives." I looked up some of his paintings, and he is, indeed, a great artist. Huxley claims that "Vermeer could see Suchness in all its heavenly beauty- could see and, is some small measure, render it in a bustle and sumptuous still life."
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