He seemed to know a great deal about life. ‘You don’t know him. But tell me one thing I don’t understand—tell me one thing: How can you help it by coming down into the battle and the mire? That’s the thing that concerns me. The door was too strong, and too well secured, to break open,—the walls too thick: but the ceiling,—if he could reach it—there, he doubted not, he could make an outlet. And she, she in her own person too, was this eternal Bios, beginning again its recurrent journey to selection and multiplication and failure or survival. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 11-09-2024 07:52:51
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