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Maeterlinck, Maurice, 1862-1949

"The Unknown Guest"


8
We should be wrong, however, to fix all our attention on these
extraordinary phenomena, either those with which we unduly
connect the deceased or those no less striking ones in which we
do not believe that they take part. They are evidently precious
points of emergence that enable us approximately to mark the
extent, the forms and the habits of our mystery. But it is within
ourselves, in the silence of the darkness of our being, where it
is ever in motion, guiding our destiny, that we should strive to
surprise that mystery and to discover it. And I am not speaking
only of the dreams, the presumptions, the vague intuitions, the
room or less brilliant inspirations which are so many more
manifestations, specific as it were and analogous with those that
have occupied us. There is another, a more secret and much more
active existence which we have scarcely begun to study and which
is, if we descend to the bed-rock of truth, our only real
existence. From the darkest corners of our ego it directs our
veritable life, the one that is not to die, and pays no heed to
our thought or to anything emanating from our reason, which
believes that it guides nor steps. It alone knows the long past
that preceded our birth and the endless future that will follow
our departure from this earth. It is itself that future and that
past, all those from whom we have sprung and all those who will
spring from us.


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