The more barriers Destiny and
the world and its law interpose between the lovers, the stronger is the
impulse that urges them towards one another, and their happiness in
loving one another turns to bitterness, and their unhappiness in not
being able to love freely and openly grows heavier, and they pity one
another from the bottom of their hearts; and this common pity, which is
their common misery and their common happiness, gives fire and fuel to
their love. And they suffer their joy, enjoying their suffering. And
they establish their love beyond the confines of the world, and the
strength of this poor love suffering beneath the yoke of Destiny gives
them intuition of another world where there is no other law than the
liberty of love--another world where there are no barriers because there
is no flesh. For nothing inspires us more with hope and faith in another
world than the impossibility of our love truly fructifying in this world
of flesh and of appearances.
And what is maternal love but compassion for the weak, helpless,
defenceless infant that craves the mother's milk and the comfort of her
breast? And woman's love is all maternal.
To love with the spirit is to pity, and he who pities most loves most.
Men aflame with a burning charity towards their neighbours are thus
enkindled because they have touched the depth of their own misery, their
own apparentiality, their own nothingness, and then, turning their newly
opened eyes upon their fellows, they have seen that they also are
miserable, apparential, condemned to nothingness, and they have pitied
them and loved them.
Pages:
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218