Excerpt from The Choice of Life
Here in the garden, close to the quiet house, I sit thinking of that strange meeting in the village. A blackbird at regular intervals sings the same refrain, which is taken up by others in the distance. The lily's chalice gleams under the blazing sun; and the humbler ﬂowers meekly droop their heads. White butterﬂies are everywhere, ﬂitting restlessly hither and thither. So fierce is the splendour of the day that I cannot raise my eyes to the summit of the trees; and my quivering lids show me the whole sky through my lashes.
Thereupon it seems to me that the emotion which bursts from my heart, like a too-brilliant light, com pels me to close the shutters of my brain as well. In my mind, even as before my eyes, distances are lessened and I see stretched before me that more or less illusive goal which we would all fain reach in the desires of our finer selves.%10% This idea is soothing to me, for, in my eagerness to act, I am tired of demanding from my reason reasons which it cannot vouchsafe me.
Is there anything definite amid the uncertainty of these blind efforts, these unaccountable impulses.
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