But we don't want to see ugly things!
L. You had better say, "We don't want to suffer them." You ought
to be glad in thinking how much more beauty God has made, than
human eyes can ever see; but not glad in thinking how much more
evil man has made, than his own soul can ever conceive, much more
than his hands can ever heal.
VIOLET. I don't understand;--how is that like the leaves?
L. The same law holds in our neglect of multiplied pain, as in our
neglect of multiplied beauty. Florrie jumps for joy at sight of
half an inch of a green leaf in a brown stone, and takes more
notice of it than of all the green in the wood, and you, or I, or
any of us, would be unhappy if any single human creature beside us
were in sharp pain; but we can read, at breakfast, day after day,
of men being killed, and of women and children dying of hunger,
faster than the leaves strew the brooks in Vallombrosa;--and then
go out to play croquet, as if nothing had happened.
MAY. But we do not see the people being killed or dying.
L. You did not see your brother, when you got the telegram the
other day, saying he was ill, May; but you cried for him; and
played no croquet. But we cannot talk of these things now; and
what is more, you must let me talk straight on, for a little
while; and ask no questions till I've done: for we branch
("exfoliate," I should say, mineralogically) always into something
else,--though that's my fault more than yours; but I must go
straight on now.
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