Sacrifice May Be A Flower That Virtue

As Soon As We Put Something Into Words, We Devalue It In A Strange Way. We Think We Have Plunged Into The Depths Of The Abyss, And When We Return To The Surface The Drop Of Water On Our Pale Fingertips No Longer Resembles The Sea From Which It Comes. We Delude Ourselves That We Have Discovered A Wonderful Treasure Trove, And When We Return To The Light Of Day We Find That We Have Brought Back Only False Stones And Shards Of Glass; And Yet The Treasure Goes On Glimmering In The Dark, Unaltered.

Nothing In The Whole World Is So Athirst For Beauty As The Soul, Nor Is There Anything To Which Beauty Clings So Readily.

In Any Event, A Truth That Disheartens, Because It Is True, Is Still Of Far More Value Than The Most Stimulating Of Falsehoods.

And On This Earth Of Ours There Are But Few Souls That Can Withstand The Dominion Of The Soul That Has Suffered Itself To Become Beautiful.

Sacrifice May Be A Flower That Virtue Will Pluck On Its Road, But It Was Not To Gather This Flower That Virtue Set Forth On Its Travels.