I am gradually caught in the tangle of a drama which at
times develops into sheer burlesque, and before I can realise what is
going to happen, it turns into ghastly tragedy. I am overwhelmed in
grotesque disaster--it is the only word. Instead of creating happiness
all around me, I have played havoc with human lives. I stand on the
brink and look back and see that it is all one gigantic devil-jest at
my expense. I thank God I am going to die. I do die--for practical
purposes. I come back to life and--here I am. Can I be quite the same
person I was a year ago?"
She reflected for a few moments. Then she said:
"No. You can't be--quite the same. A man of your nature would either
have his satirical view of life hardened into bitter cynicism or he
would be softened by suffering and face things with new and nobler
ideals. He would either still regard life as a jest--but instead of its
being an odd, merry jest it would be a grim, meaningless, hideous one;
or he would see that it wasn't a jest at all, but a full, wonderful, big
reality.
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