but even they were not heroes, they were not free, they also wished for something to which they had been accustomed,
which they had loved; with which they had felt at home.
They had examples or ideals. He who will fulfill his destiny has neither examples nor ideals, he has nothing dear to him, nothing to comfort him.
And one really ought to go this way. People like you and I are certainly very lonely, but we still have each other,
we have the secret satisfaction of being different, of revolting, of wanting the unusual.
But we must drop that, too, if we would go the whole way. We must not wish to be revolutionaries, or examples, or martyrs.
To think the thought to its logical end——” No, one could not think beyond that.
But one could dream of it, could sense it, could anticipate it.
A few times I realized something of this, in a very quiet hour. Then I looked straight into the open, staring eyes of my fate.
They could have been full of wisdom, or full of madness, they could be full of love or full of wickedness, it was all one.
One was to choose nothing of all that; one was to want nothing, one was only to want oneself, one’s destiny.
In that way had Pistorius served me, for a time, as guide.
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