Thought clings only to thought--that is to
say, to itself, to the psychological process. The mind's only ambition
is for an enriched experience. It finds its pleasure in studying the
play of its own facilities, and the study passes easily into an aptitude
and habit. Reflection becomes nothing more than an apparatus for the
registration of the impressions, emotions, and ideas which pass across
the mind. The whole moulting process is carried on so energetically that
the mind is not only unclothed, but stripped of itself, and, so to
speak, _de-substantiated_. The wheel turns so quickly that it melts
around the mathematical axis, which alone remains cold because it is
impalpable, and has no thickness. All this is natural enough, but very
dangerous.
So long as one is numbered among the living--so long, that is to say, as
one is still plunged in the world of men, a sharer of their interests,
conflicts, vanities, passions, and duties, one is bound to deny one's
self this subtle state of consciousness; one must consent to be a
separate individual, having one's special name, position, age, and
sphere of activity. In spite of all the temptations of impersonality,
one must resume the position of a being imprisoned within certain limits
of time and space, an individual with special surroundings, friends,
enemies, profession, country, bound to house and feed himself, to make
up his accounts and look after his affairs; in short, one must behave
like all the world.
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