THOUGHTS FROM WRITINGS 



of human affairs to drift downwards 

 irresistibly to unhappiness. Guilt — 

 that is, untoward and often involuntary 

 actions— pulls generation after genera- 

 tion heavily as lead down, down, down. 

 Sophocles, ^schylus— take which you 

 will, still the same thought pervades 

 their sculptured groups (for they are 

 sculptured in words, nude, noble, un- 

 happy). Grief falls upon human beings as 

 the rain, not selecting good or evil, visit- 

 ing the innocent, condemning those who 

 have done no wrong.—' The Dewy Morn.' 



THE stolid are alone happy. Yet 

 there drops from the azure 

 heaven a beam of light, and 

 whomsoever that ray touches must follow 

 it to the end, though cheeks grow pale, 

 though shoulders stoop, though ache 

 and pain increase. The path of the 

 gods pursues beauty, but the stolid are 

 alone happy.—' The Dewy Morn.' 



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