I know not; but as I stood upon the hill-top to-day at evening, the
setting sun gilding the cloud-edges, and touching the horizon with
a delicate misty azure, my spirit did indeed awake with a smile,
with a murmured word of hope.
If I, who have lost everything that can enrich and gladden life,
can yet feel that inalienable residue of hope, which just turns the
balance on the side of desiring still to live, it must be that life
has something yet in store for me--I do not hope for love, I do
not desire the old gift of expression again; but there is something
to learn, to apprehend, to understand. I have learnt, I think, not
to grasp at anything, not to clasp anything close to my heart; the
dream of possession has fled from me; it will be enough if, as I
learn the lesson, I can ease a few burdens and help frail feet
along the road. Duty, pleasure, work--strange names which we give
to life, perversely separating the strands of the woven thread,
they hold no meaning for me now--I do not expect to be free from
suffering or from grief; but I will no more distinguish them from
other experiences saying, this is joyful, and I will take all I
can, or this is sad, and I will fly from it.
Pages:
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358