I have fallen back into that state of mind
which possessed me during my wanderings after Aniela's marriage. Again
I understand nothing, cannot act or look upon anything that has no
direct bearing upon Aniela. The thoughts in which I do not see her
image at the bottom are meaningless to me. It is a proof how far a man
may sink his own self. I read this morning a lecture by Bunge called
"Vitality and Mechanism," and I perused it with exceptional interest.
He demonstrates scientifically that which has been in my mind more
as a dim, shapeless idea than a definite conviction. Here science
confesses scepticism in regard to itself, and, moreover, not only
confirms its own impotence but clearly points to the existence of
another world which is something more than matter and motion, which
cannot be explained either physically or chemically. It does not
concern me in the least whether that world be above matter or subject
to it. It is a mere play of words! I am not a scientist; I am not
bound to be careful in my deductions; therefore I throw myself
headforemost into that open door, and let science prate and say a
hundred times over that all is dark there. I feel it will be lighter
than here. I read with almost feverish eagerness and great relief.
Only fools do not acknowledge how materialism wearies and oppresses
us, what secret fear lurks in the mind lest their science should prove
true, what a dreary waiting for new scientific evolutions, and joy of
the prisoners when they see a small door ajar through which they
may escape into the open air.
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