I am moved by fancies that are curled, around these images and cling, the notion of some infinitely gentle, infinitely suffering thing.
We are not here to triumph by fighting, by strata gem, or by resistance, not to fight with beasts as men. We have fought the beast and have conquered. We have only to conquer now, by suffering. This is the easier victory.
We must learn to suffer more.
The more perfect the artist, the more completely separate in him will be the man who suffers and the mind which creates.
Sister, mother And spirit of the river, spirit of the sea, Suffer me not to be separated And let my cry come unto Thee.
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