Серце темряви

           Wecouldnotunderstandbecauseweweretoofarandcouldnotrememberbecauseweweretravellinginthenightoffirstages,ofthoseagesthataregone,leavinghardlyasign—andnomemories.

           "Theearthseemedunearthly.Weareaccustomedtolookupontheshackledformofaconqueredmonster,butthere—thereyoucouldlookatathingmonstrousandfree.Itwasunearthly,andthemenwere—No,theywerenotinhuman.Well,youknow,thatwastheworstofit—thissuspicionoftheirnotbeinginhuman.Itwouldcomeslowlytoone.Theyhowledandleaped,andspun,andmadehorridfaces;butwhatthrilledyouwasjustthethoughtoftheirhumanity—likeyours—thethoughtofyourremotekinshipwiththiswildandpassionateuproar.Ugly.Yes,itwasuglyenough;butifyouweremanenoughyouwouldadmittoyourselfthatthereywasinyoujustthefaintesttraceofaresponsetotheterriblefranknessofthatnoise,adimsuspicionoftherebeingameaninginitwhichyou—yousoremotefromthenightoffirstages—couldcomprehend.Andwhynot?Themindofmaniscapableofanything—becauseeverythingisinit,allthepastaswellasallthefuture.Whatwasthereafterall?Joy,fear,sorrow,devotion,valour,rage—whocantell?—buttruth—truthstrippedofitscloakoftime.Letthefoolgapeandshudder—themanknows,andcanlookonwithoutawink.Buthemustatleastbeasmuchofamanastheseontheshore.Hemustmeetthattruthwithhisowntruestuff—withhisowninbornstrength.Principleswon’tdo.