to what a great extent our souls have part in the continual creation of the world.
Or rather, it is the same indivisible godhead, which is active in us and in nature.
If the outside world fell in ruins, one of us would be capable of building it up again,
for mountain and stream, tree and leaf, root and blossom, all that is shaped by nature lies modeled in us,
comes from the soul, whose essence is eternity, of whose essence we are ignorant,
but which is revealed to us for the most part as love-force and creative power.
Many years later I found this observation confirmed in a book, one of Leonardo da Vinci’s,
who in one passage remarks how good and deeply moving it is to look at a wall on which many people have spat.
He felt the same sensation before those spots on the wet wall as Pistorius and I before the fire.
At our next meeting the organist enlightened me still further on the subject.
“We confine our personality within much too narrow bounds.
We count as composing our person only that which distinguishes us as individuals, only that which we recognize as irregular.
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