'-- 



and, therefore, forever the deepest, most 

 familiar, and yet most marvellous world 

 to which men may come in all their 

 wanderings. 



As these thoughts come and go, un- 

 clothed with words and unsought by will, 

 I grasp again the deep truth that the truest 

 life is unconscious and almost voiceless; 

 that there is no rich, true, articulate life 

 unless there flows under it a wide, deep 

 current of unspoken, almost unconscious, 

 thought and feeling ; that the best one ever 

 says or does is as a few drops flung into 

 the sunlight from a swift, hidden stream, 

 and shining for a moment as they fall again 

 into a current inaudible and invisible. The 

 intellectual life that is all expressive, that 

 is all conscious and self-directed, is but a 

 shallow life at best; he only lives deeply 

 in the intellect whose thought begins in 

 instinct, rises slowly through experience, 

 carrying with it into consciousness the 

 noblest, truest one has felt and been, and 

 finds speech at last by impulse and direc- 

 tion of the same law which summons the 

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