and in that case there would be no more sense in relating stories.
But each man is not only himself, he is also the unique, quite special, and in every case the important and remarkable point
where the world’s phenomena converge, in a certain manner, never again to be repeated.
For that reason the history of everyone is important, eternal, divine.
For that reason every man, so long as he lives at all and carries out the will of nature, is wonderful and worthy of every attention.
In everyone has the spirit taken shape, in everyone creation suffers, in everyone is a redeemer crucified.
Few to-day know what man is. Many feel it, and for that reason die the easier, as I shall die the easier, when I have finished my story.
I must not call myself one who knows. I was a seeker and am still, but I seek no more in the stars or in books;
I am beginning to listen to the promptings of those instincts which are coursing in my very blood.
My story is not pleasant, it is not sweet and harmonious like the fictitious stories.
It smacks of nonsense and perplexity, of madness and dreams, like the lives of all men who do not wish to delude themselves any longer.
The life of everyone is a way to himself, the search for a road, the indication of a path.
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