Such men are often those upon
whom early youth broke, like a fresh wave, with an incomparable
sense of rapture, in the thought of all the beauty and loveliness
of nature and art; and who lived for a little in a Paradise of
delicious experiences and fine emotions, believing that there must
be some strange mistake, and that every one must in reality desire
what seemed so utterly desirable; and then, as life went on, there
fell upon these the shadow of the harsh facts of life; the
knowledge that the majority of the human race had no part or lot in
such visions, but loved rather food and drink and comfort and money
and rude mirth; who did not care a pin what happened to other
people, or how frail and suffering beings spent their lives, so
long as they themselves were healthy and jolly. Then that shadow
deepens and thickens, until the sad dreamers do one of two things--
either immure themselves in a tiny scented garden of their own, and
try to drown the insistent noises without; or, on the other hand,
if they are of the nobler sort, lose heart and hope, and even
forfeit their own delight in things that are sweet and generous and
pleasant and pure.
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