The circumstances of our varied experience do not fit into
the places allotted them, and we find ourselves often in false and
painful positions, with no alternative but to endure patiently or
peevishly what men call the inevitable.
If only we did not wish so ardently for those things that may not be!
Why does not the human heart control itself with some philosophy that
can despoil forbidden fruit of all its tempting qualities? Why need we
covet probabilities that may never be nearer to realization than they
are now?
This sort of reasoning had helped me in some measure to combat the
worrying dissatisfaction that threatened to preside over what should
be the happiest epoch my life. I drifted into a voluntary
forgetfulness of old associations. I stifled the suggestive voice of
memory, and since this is the way of the world, thought I, let me
subscribe to its profane regulations as well as the rest. I will be
the plaything of chance, and risk my lot for better or worse.
But here was an impediment, already, which awakened the long dormant
memories of my past. Here was something that needed investigation, and
might possibly in its issue, interfere with my worldly-wise policy. I
could not tell yet, but the time must come now when these vagaries
would end in one thing or another.
With these conflicting reflections storming my pillow, I fell asleep.
My mind was tired, and I slept the heavy, dreamless slumber of
exhaustion.
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