“To live is always to be hurt
in some way,” said a young voice
recently. It was the half-resentful,
half-wondering voice of one still new to the experiences of existence, and
questioning their justice.
The statement is true, and the more fully alive one is, the more keenly are the hurts felt. Every joy brings with it its possible price of suffering. Every love opens a door to sorrow, every gift brings its weight of responsibility; wider knowledge brings the larger drain upon sympathy. The higher one rises in the scale of being, the greater becomes not only the capacity for joy, but also the twin capacity for suffering, but who would choose to be a clod to avoid feeling, a block of marble to escape the pain of a living soul?
No comments:
Post a Comment