It is merely the idea
of what would be our sensations during the sweeping precipitancy of
a fall from such a height. And this fall- this rushing annihilation-
for the very reason that it involves that one most ghastly and
loathsome of all the most ghastly and loathsome images of death and
suffering which have ever presented themselves to our imagination- for
this very cause do we now the most vividly desire it. And because
our reason violently deters us from the brink, therefore do we the
most impetuously approach it. There is no passion in nature so
demoniacally impatient, as that of him who, shuddering upon the edge
of a precipice, thus meditates a Plunge. To indulge, for a moment,
in any attempt at thought, is to be inevitably lost; for reflection
but urges us to forbear, and therefore it is, I say, that we cannot.
If there be no friendly arm to check us, or if we fail in a sudden
effort to prostrate ourselves backward from the abyss, we plunge,
and are destroyed.
Examine these similar actions as we will, we shall find them
resulting solely from the spirit of the Perverse.
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