Its hills speak of death as well as of life, and we know that for
man there is nothing on earth really but man; the human species owns and
possesses nothing but its species.
When I saw this I turned with
threefold concentration of desire and love towards that expression of
hope which is called beauty, such as is worked in marble here. For I
think beauty is truthfully an expression of hope, and that is why it is
so enthralling - because while the heart is absorbed in its contemplation,
unconscious but powerful hope is filling the breast. So powerful is it as
to banish for the time all care, and to make this life seem the life of
the immortals.
Returning the next morning, my thoughts went on, and found that this
ideal of nature required of us something beyond good. The conception of
moral good did not satisfy one while contemplating it. The highest form
known to us at present is pure unselfishness, the doing of good, not for
any reward, now or hereafter, nor for the completion of an imaginary
scheme. This is the best we know. But how unsatisfactory! Filled with the
aspirations called forth by the ideal before me, it appeared as if even
the saving of life is a little work compared to what the heart would like
to do. An outlet is needed more fully satisfying to its inmost desires
than is afforded by any labour of self-abnegation.
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