Of what value, then, were my notions on
matters demanding far greater concentration of thought? Accuracy I
fancied might be acquired, but I was mistaken. It is a gift as much
as the art of writing sublime poetry. I struggled and struggled
with pencil and precis, but I did not improve. My cousin's before-
mentioned friend took delight in checking, like an accountant, what
was said to him, especially by me, and although I saw that this for
the most part was a mere trick, I could not deny that it proved
continually that my so-called opinions were not worth a straw. The
related virtues of accuracy, strength of memory, and clear
definition, are of great importance, but I over-estimated them. I
see now that human affairs are so complicated, that had I possessed
the advantages bestowed on my cousin and his companion, they would
not have prevented delusions, all the more perilous, perhaps,
because I should have been more confident. However, at the time of
which I am speaking, I was wretched, and believed that my
wretchedness was entirely due to deficiencies and weaknesses, from
which my friends were free.
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