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| Photo by Pam Evans |
We do not know our
own souls, let alone the souls of others. Human beings do not go hand in hand
the whole stretch of the way. There is a virgin forest, tangled, pathless, in
each; a snowfield where even the print of birds' feet is unknown. Here we go
alone, and like it better so. Always to have sympathy, always to be
accompanied, always to be understood would be intolerable.
“On Being Ill” –1930 (E5, 198)
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