But the result of this is the ugly and unphilosophical
kind of optimism after all, that calls upon God to despise the work
of His own hands, that turns upon all that is feeble and unsightly
and vulgar with anger and disdain, like the man in the parable who
took advantage of his being forgiven a great debt to exact a tiny
one. The tragedy is that the knock-kneed clerk is all in all to
himself. In clear-sighted and imaginative moments, he may realise
in a sudden flash of horrible insight that he is so far from being
what he would desire to be, so unheroic, so loosely strung, so
deplorable--and yet that he can do so little to bridge the gap. The
only method of manufacturing heroes is to encourage people to
believe in themselves and their possibilities, to assure them that
they are indeed dear to God; not to reveal relentlessly to them
their essential lowness and shabbiness. It is not the clerk's fault
that his mind is sordid and weak, and that his knees knock
together; and no optimism is worth the name that has not a glorious
message for the vilest.
Pages:
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357