There was a man who made unto himself wings, and thought to soar
upon them; but, as he rose into high Heaven, the Sun melted the wax
wherewith he had fastened the pinions on to his body, and the poor
fool, sinking to earth, was drowned in deep waters.
Now, as Icarus fell into the sea, what lesson would have risen from
his heart unto the sons of men?
This?
"Children of earth, the earthworm crawls in its blindness; be
content, for ye are such."
Or this?
"Make wings unto yourselves and fly! My wings were strong, and
should have borne me further; I fall and die, yet I have seen the
Sun."
* * * * *
I know not. Nor know I how to read the lesson of my own life. I,
too, can only say, "My wings were strong, and should have borne me
further."
I shall not burn my letters and my journal, as I meant to do. Here
they lie in my lap; I meant to burn them to-night. But now, after
reading them through, I think that I shall tie them together and lay
them by, adding a record of that which came to pass.
When I am dead, some human being may read my words, some other
pilgrim on the narrow way, seeing where I faltered and fell, may be
able to step onward with the greater firmness. And yet, I doubt it;
there were no need to weep over our faults, might they but save
another's tears. Man learns all truth through his own pain.