For though happiness appear in the form of
a torrent, or a river that flows underground, of a whirlpool or
tranquil lake, its source still is ever the same that lies deep down
in our heart; and the unhappiest man of all men can conceive an idea
of great joy. It is true that in love there is ecstasy that he
doubtless never will know; but this ecstasy would leave deep
melancholy only in the earnest and faithful heart, if there were not
in veritable love something more stable than ecstasy, more profound
and more steadfast; and all that in love is profoundest, most stable
and steadfast, is profoundest in noble lives too--is most stable and
steadfast in them. Not to all men is it given to be hero or genius,
victorious, admirable always, or even to be simply happy in exterior
things; but it lies in the power of the least favoured among us to
be loyal, and gentle, and just, to be generous and brotherly; he
that has least gifts of all can learn to look on his fellows without
envy or hatred, without malice or futile regret; the outcast can
take his strange, silent part (which is not always that of least
service) in the gladness of those who are near him; he that has
barely a talent can still learn to forgive an offence with an ever
nobler forgiveness, can find more excuses for error, more admiration
for human word and deed; and the man there are none to love can
love, and reverence, love.
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