only lives from the moment it modifies, purifies, sweetens something
we have in our soul. To be conscious of moral improvement is of the
essence of consciousness. Some beings there are, of vigorous
intellect, whose intellect never is used to discover a fault, or
foster a feeling of charity. And this happens often with women. In
cases where a man and a woman have equal intellectual power, the
woman will always devote far less of this power to acquiring moral
self-knowledge. And truly the intellect that aims not at
consciousness is but beating its wings in the void. Loss and
corruption needs must ensue if the force of our brain be not at once
gathered up in the purest vase of our heart. Nor can such an
intellect ever know happiness; nay, it seems to invite misfortune.
For intellect may be of the loftiest, mightiest, and yet perhaps
never draw near unto joy; but in the soul that is gentle, and pure,
and good, sorrow cannot for ever abide. And even though the boundary
line between intellect and consciousness be not always as clearly
defined as here we seem to assume, even though a beautiful thought
in itself may be often a goodly action--yet, none the less will a
beautiful thought, that springs not from noble deed, or wherefrom
noble deed shall not spring, add but little unto our felicity;
whereas a good deed, though it father no thought, will ever fall
like soft bountiful rain on our knowledge of happiness.

54. "How final must his farewell to happiness have been," exclaims
Renan, speaking of the renouncement of Marcus Aurelius--"how final
must his farewell to happiness have been, for him to be capable of
such excess! None will ever know how great was the suffering of that
poor, stricken heart, or the bitterness the waxen brow concealed,
calm always, and even smiling. It is true that the farewell to
happiness is the beginning of wisdom, and the surest road to