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Schreiner, Olive, 1855-1920

"The Story of an African Farm, a novel"

Well to die
then!
Sitting there with his arms folded on his knees, and his hat slouched down
over his face, Waldo looked out into the yellow sunshine that tinted even
the very air with the colour of ripe corn, and was happy.
He was an uncouth creature with small learning, and no prospect in the
future but that of making endless tables and stone walls, yet it seemed to
him as he sat there that life was a rare and very rich thing. He rubbed
his hands in the sunshine. Ah, to live on so, year after year, how well!
Always in the present; letting each day glide, bringing its own labour, and
its own beauty; the gradual lighting up of the hills, night and the stars,
firelight and the coals! To live on so, calmly, far from the paths of men;
and to look at the lives of clouds and insects; to look deep into the heart
of flowers, and see how lovingly the pistil and the stamens nestle there
together; and to see in the thorn-pods how the little seeds suck their life
through the delicate curled-up string, and how the little embryo sleeps
inside! Well, how well, to sit so on one side taking no part in the
world's life; but when great men blossom into books looking into those
flowers also, to see how the world of men too opens beautifully, leaf after
leaf. Ah! life is delicious; well to live long, and see the darkness
breaking, and the day coming! The day when soul shall not thrust back soul
that would come to it; when men shall not be driven to seek solitude
because of the crying-out of their hearts for love and sympathy.


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