How are these things related that such deep
union should exist between them all? Is it chance? Or, are they not all
the fine branches of one trunk, whose sap flows through us all? That would
explain it. We nod over the gander's inside.
This thing we call existence; is it not a something which has its roots far
down below in the dark, and its branches stretching out into the immensity
above, which we among the branches cannot see? Not a chance jungle; a
living thing, a One. The thought gives us intense satisfaction, we cannot
tell why.
We nod over the gander; then start up suddenly, look into the blue sky,
throw the dead gander and the refuse into the dam, and go to work again.
And so, it comes to pass in time, that the earth ceases for us to be a
weltering chaos. We walk in the great hall of life, looking up and round
reverentially. Nothing is despicable--all is meaning-full; nothing is
small--all is part of a whole, whose beginning and end we know not. The
life that throbs in us is a beginning and end we know not. The life that
throbs in us is a pulsation from it; too mighty for our comprehension, not
too small.
And so, it comes to pass at last, that whereas the sky was at first a small
blue rag stretched out over us, and so low that our hands might touch it,
pressing down on us, it raises itself into an immeasurable blue arch over
our heads, and we begin to live again.
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