All that has happened was brought
on by me. I made mistake after mistake, and it is all my fault.
To know something, and to make it a matter of calculation are two
different things. We account to ourselves for unknown factors which
act upon the soul of a given individual, but in dealing with the same
we generally take ourselves as a point of issue. This happened to me.
I knew, or at least was conscious of the fact, that Aniela and I are
as different from each other as if we were the inhabitants of two
separate planets, but I did not always remember it. Involuntarily I
counted upon her acting in a certain position as I should have acted.
In spite of the consciousness that we two are the most dissimilar
beings under the sun, as opposite as the poles, I note it down with a
certain surprise, and seem not able to get used to the thought. And
yet it is true. I am a thousand times more like Laura Davis than
Aniela.
And now I begin to understand why I failed.
The rock I split against is the want of that which has vanished within
me, thereby freeing my thoughts, but bringing instead of it the mortal
disease that has become my tragedy; it is the catechismal simplicity
of the soul.
Now I can account for it clearly, perhaps not quite satisfactorily,
for I am of so complex a disposition as to have lost the very instinct
of simplicity.
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