THOUGHTS FROM WRITINGS 



SOMETIMES I have concentrated 

 myself, and driven away by con- 

 tinued will all sense of outward 

 appearances, looking straight with the 

 full power of my mind inwards on myself. 

 I find ' I ' am there ; an ' I ' I do not 

 wholly understand or know, something 

 is there distinct from earth and timber, 

 from flesh and bones. Recognising it, 

 I feel on the margin of a life unknown, 

 very near, almost touching it: on the 

 verge of powers which if I could grasp 

 would give me an immense breadth of 

 existence, and ability to execute what 

 I now only conceive; most probably of 

 far more than that. To see that ' I ' is 

 to know that I am surrounded with im- 

 mortal things. If, when I die, that ' I ' 

 also dies, and becomes extinct, still even 

 then I have had the exaltation of these 

 ideas.—' The Story of my Heart.' 



34 



