Серце темряви

           Ittakesplaceinanimpalpablegreyness,withnothingunderfoot,withnothingaround,withoutspectators,withoutclamour,withoutglory,withoutthegreatdesireofvictory,withoutthegreatfearofdefeat,inasicklyatmosphereoftepidscepticism,withoutmuchbeliefinyourownright,andstilllessinthatofyouradversary.Ifsuchistheformofultimatewisdom,thenlifeisagreaterriddlethansomeofusthinkittobe.Iwaswithinahair’sbreadthofthelastopportunityforpronouncement,andIfoundwithhumiliationthatprobablyIwouldhavenothingtosay.ThisisthereasonwhyIaffirmthatKurtzwasaremarkableman.Hehadsomethingtosay.Hesaidit.SinceIhadpeepedovertheedgemyself,Iunderstandbetterthemeaningofhisstare,thatcouldnotseetheflameofthecandle,butwaswideenoughtoembracethewholeuniverse,piercingenoughtopenetratealltheheartsthatbeatinthedarkness.Hehadsummedup—hehadjudged.‘Thehorror!’Hewasaremarkableman.Afterall,thiswastheexpressionofsomesortofbelief;ithadcandour,ithadconviction,ithadavibratingnoteofrevoltinitswhisper,ithadtheappallingfaceofaglimpsedtruth—thestrangecomminglingofdesireandhate.AnditisnotmyownextremityIrememberbest—avisionofgreynesswithoutformfilledwithphysicalpain,andacarelesscontemptfortheevanescenceofallthings—evenofthispainitself.No!ItishisextremitythatIseemtohavelivedthrough.