"You exalt purity to a bad eminence," Keith would remark. "What did you
say about the book I lent you the other day? You said it was morbid and
indecent; you said that no clean-minded person would car to read it.
And yet, after an unnecessary amount of arguing, you were forced to
admit that the subject was interesting and that the writer dealt with
it in an interesting manner. What more can you expect from an author?
Believe me, this hankering after purity, this hypersensitiveness as to
what is morbid or immoral, is by no means a good sign. A healthy man
refuses to be hampered by preconceived notions of what is wrong or
ugly. When he reads a book like that the either yawns or laughs. That
is because he is sure of himself. I could give you a long list of
celebrated statesmen, princes, philosophers and prelates of the Church
who take pleasure, in their moments of relaxation, in what you would
call improper conversation, literature or correspondence. They feel the
strain of being continually pure; they realize that all strains are
pernicious, and that there is no action without its reaction.
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