"
"Yes," said Charmides, "it was wise; but it is difficult to feel it so
at the time. I wonder! I think perhaps I have made the mistake of being
too fastidious. But it seemed so fine a goal that one had in sight, to
chasten and temper all one's thoughts to what was beautiful--to judge
and distinguish, to choose the right tones and harmonies, to be always
rejecting and refining. It had its sorrows, of course. How often in the
old days one came in contact with some gracious and beautiful
personality, and flung oneself into close relations; and then one began
to see this and that flaw. There were lapses in tact, petulances,
littlenesses; one's friend did not rightly use his beautiful mind; he
was jealous, suspicious, trivial, petty; it ended in disillusionment.
Instead of taking him as a passenger on one's vessel, and determining to
live at peace, to overlook, to accommodate, one began to watch for an
opportunity of putting him down courteously at some stopping-place; and
instead of being grateful for his friendship, one was vexed with him for
disappointing one. We must speak more of these things.
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