The
man who is alone, who stands on his own feet, who is stripped bare, who
asks for nothing and wants nothing, who has reached the apex of
disinterestedness not through blind renunciation but through excess of
clear vision, turns to the world which stretches out before him as a
burned prairie, as a devastated city —a world in which no churches,
asylums, refuges, ideals, are left—and says: “Though you promise me
nothing I am still with you, I am still an atom of your energies, my
work is part of your work; I am your companion and your mirror as you
march on your merciless way.”“
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