And at
bottom, what we long for is a prolongation of this life, this life and
no other, this life of flesh and suffering, this life which we imprecate
at times simply because it comes to an end. The majority of suicides
would not take their lives if they had the assurance that they would
never die on this earth. The self-slayer kills himself because he will
not wait for death.
When in the thirty-third canto of the _Paradiso_, Dante relates how he
attained to the vision of God, he tells us that just as a man who
beholds somewhat in his sleep retains on awakening nothing but the
impression of the feeling in his mind, so it was with him, for when the
vision had all but passed away the sweetness that sprang from it still
distilled itself in his heart.
_Cotal son to, che quasi tutta cessa
mia visione ed ancor mi distilla
nel cuor lo dulce che nacque da essa_
like snow that melts in the sun--
_cosi la neve al sol si disigilla_.
That is to say, that the vision, the intellectual content, passes, and
that which remains is the delight, the _passione impressa_, the
emotional, the irrational--in a word, the corporeal.
What we desire is not merely spiritual felicity, not merely vision, but
delight, bodily happiness. The other happiness, the rationalist
_beatitude_, the happiness of being submerged in understanding, can
only--I will not say satisfy or deceive, for I do not believe that it
ever satisfied or deceived even a Spinoza.
Pages:
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339