If a night-moth were to concentrate its will on flying to a star or some equally unattainable object, it wouldn't succeed. Only, it wouldn't even try in the first place. A moth confines its search to what has sense and value for it, what it needs, what is indispensable to its life... if I imagined that I wanted under all circumstances to get to the North Pole, then to achieve it I would have to desire it strongly enough that my whole being was ruled by it. But if I were to decide to will that the pastor should stop wearing his glasses, it would be useless. That would be making a game of it.
Herman HesseAbout author
- Author's profession: Author, Writer
- Nationality: deutsch
- Born: July 2, 1877
- Died: August 9, 1962
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Follow, poet, follow right. To the bottom of the night, With your unconstraining voice. Still persuade us to rejoice; With the farming of a verse. Make a vineyard of the curse, Sing of human unsuccess. In a rapture of distress; In the deserts of the heart. Let the healing fountain start, In the prison of his days. Teach the free man how to praise.
W. H. Auden