And clue 1: It's not a Christmas book.
That's what liberty is, I thought. To have a passion, to amass pieces of gold and suddenly to conquer one's passion and throw the treasure to the four winds.
Free yourself from one passion to be dominated by another and nobler one. But is not that, too, a form of slavery? To sacrifice oneself to an ideal, to a race, to God? Or does it mean that the higher the model the longer the tether of our slavery? Then we can enjoy ourselves and frolic in a more spacious arena and die without having come to the end of our tether. Is that, then, what we call liberty?
3 comments:
Zorba the Greek. I really ought to read that book, but this is one of my special talents: identifying books I haven't read (as well as movies I haven't seen). Not terribly useful (except occassionally, when responding to precocious bloggers).
I'm not sure what I think of being called precocious. Pertinacious, perhaps, or even perspicacious on my good days, but am I precocious? I'll have to think about this.
You win, though, anonymous. Give yourself a big pat on the back.
I always do.
I struggled a long time for the proper adjective, and don't think I found it; I could explain "precocious" if you'd like. But you can certainly have "perspicacious."
Lisa: "I'm losing my perspecacity!"
Homer: "Well. it's always where you least expect it."
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