"
"Well," he said, "I have sometimes wondered myself. I feel that you may
have something to tell me, some message for me. I thought that when I
first saw you; but I cannot quite perceive what is in your mind, and I
see that you do not wholly know what is in mine. I have been here for a
long time, and I have a sense that I do not get on, do not move; and yet
I have lived in extreme joy and contentment, except that I dread to
return to life, as I know I must return. I have lived often, and always
in joy--but in life there are constantly things to endure, little things
which just ruffle the serenity of soul which I desire, and which I may
fairly say I here enjoy. I have loved beauty, and not intemperately; and
there have been other people--men and women--whom I have loved, in a
sense; but the love of them has always seemed a sort of interruption to
the life I desired, something disordered and strained, which hurt me,
and kept me away from the peace I desired--from the fine weighing of
sounds and colours, and the pleasure of beautiful forms and lines; and I
dread to return to life, because one cannot avoid love and sorrow, and
mean troubles, which waste the spirit in vain.
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