For how can he know that he is
dead until he IS dead? And when he IS dead, how can he know that
he is dead? If he does, it is an abuse of terms to say that he is
dead. A man can know no more about the end of his life than he did
about the beginning. The most horrible and loathed death still
resolves itself into being badly frightened, and not a little hurt
towards the end of one's life, but it can never come to being
unbearably hurt for long together. Besides, we are at all times,
even during life, dead and dying to by far the greater part of our
past selves. What we call dying is only dying to the balance, or
residuum. This made the priest angry. He folded his arms and
said, "Basta, basta," nor did he speak to me again. It is because
I noticed the effect it produced upon my fellow-passenger that I
introduce it here.
Bignasco is at the confluence of the two main branches of the
Maggia. The greater part of the river comes down from the glacier
of Basodino, which cannot be seen from Bignasco; I know nothing of
this valley beyond having seen the glacier from the top of the pass
between Fusio and Dalpe. The smaller half of the river comes down
from Fusio, the valley of Sambucco, and the lake of Naret. The
accommodation at Bignasco is quite enough for a bachelor; the
people are good, but the inn is homely. From Bignasco the road
ascends rapidly to Peccia, a village which has suffered terribly
from inundations, and from Peccia it ascends more rapidly still--
Fusio being reached in about three hours from Bignasco.
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