The inner man remains as ordinary
as ever. If someone, who could see right into me, were to write
my biography, he would make me out to be no different from that
lout of a Panchu, or even from Nikhil!
Last night I was turning over the pages of my old diary ... I
had just graduated, and my brain was bursting with philosophy.
Even so early I had vowed not to harbour any illusions, whether
of my own or other's imagining, but to build my life on a solid
basis of reality. But what has since been its actual story?
Where is its solidity? It has rather been a network, where,
though the thread be continuous, more space is taken up by the
holes. Fight as I may, these will not own defeat. Just as I was
congratulating myself on steadily following the thread, here I am
badly caught in a hole! For I have become susceptible to
compunctions.
"I want it; it is here; let me take it"--This is a clear-cut,
straightforward policy. Those who can pursue its course with
vigour needs must win through in the end. But the gods would not
have it that such journey should be easy, so they have deputed
the siren Sympathy to distract the wayfarer, to dim his vision
with her tearful mist.
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