This is the hardest battle, that
waged by the man divided against himself; and in the end who will
conquer? On the one side is nature with her chariot of iron, in which
she hurls worlds and peoples into the abyss; and on the other is
only,--The Word. It is no wonder that you laugh, ye slaves! no wonder
the servants of force say that it is like "a cur barking at the wheels
of an express-train." Yes, if man were only a fragment of matter
writhing in vain beneath the hammer of fate; but there is a spirit
within him which knows how to smite Achilles on his heel, and Goliath
in his forehead. Let him but wrench off a nut, the swift train is
overturned, its course stayed. Planetary swirls, obscure masses of
human-kind, roll down through the ages lighted by flashes of the
liberating Spirit: Buddha, the Sages, Jesus--all breakers of chains! I
can see the lightning coming, feel it thrill through me, like sparks
that fly up beneath the horse's hoofs. The air vibrates with it, as
the thick clouds of hate come together with a crash. The flame springs
up! If you are alone against the world, have you cause to complain?
You have escaped the crushing yoke, fought your way through, like a
nightmare in which one struggles and tears oneself out of the dark
waters. You sink, choking, and all at once with a despairing effort
you throw yourself beyond the reach of the wave, and sink exhausted
but safe on the shore.
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