During the days I lay in the prison of Tehran
Though the galling weight of the chains
And the stench filled air allowed me [but] little sleep
Still in those infrequent moments of slumber I
Felt as though something flowed
From the crown of My head over My breast
Even as a mighty torrent that precipitateth itself
Upon the earth from the summit of a lofty mountain
Every limb of My body would as a result be set aflame
And at such moments My tongue recited what no man
Could bear to hear.
Bahá’u’lláh, Epistle to the Son of the Wolf, p. 22

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