There is a rebellious rippling of the grotesque under
our utmost tragedy and gravity. One's martialled phrases grimace as one
turns, and wink at the reader. None the less they signify. Do you note
how in this that I have written, such a word as Believer will begin to
wear a capital letter and give itself solemn ridiculous airs? It does
not matter. It carries its message for all that necessary superficial
absurdity.
Thought has made me shameless. It does not matter at last at all if one
is a little harsh or indelicate or ridiculous if that also is in the
mystery of things.
Behind everything I perceive the smile that makes all effort and
discipline temporary, all the stress and pain of life endurable. In the
last resort I do not care whether I am seated on a throne or drunk or
dying in a gutter. I follow my leading. In the ultimate I know, though I
cannot prove my knowledge in any way whatever, that everything is right
and all things mine.
THE END.
End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of First and Last Things, by H. G. Wells
Pages:
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283