transgress, then, if the fear of punishment were to be removed, we
should go back with a light heart to our old sins. We may obey
irresponsible power, because we know that it can hurt us if we
disobey; but unless we can perceive the reason why this and that is
forbidden, we cannot concur with law. We learn as children that
flame has power to hurt us, but we only dread the fire because it
can injure us, not because we admire the reason which it has for
burning. So long as we do not sin simply because we know the laws of
life which punish sin, we have not learned any hatred of sin; it is
only because we hate the punishment more than we love the sin, that
we abstain.

Socrates once said, in one of his wise paradoxes, that it was
better to sin knowingly than ignorantly. That is a hard saying, but
it means that at least if we sin knowingly, there is some purpose,
some courage in the soul. We take a risk with our eyes open, and
our purpose may perhaps be changed; whereas if we sin ignorantly,
we do so out of a mere base instinct, and there is no purpose that
may be educated. Anyone who has ever had the task of teaching boys
or young men to write will know how much easier it is to teach
those who write volubly and exuberantly, and desire to express
themselves, even if they do it with many faults and lapses of
taste; taste and method may be corrected, if only the instinct of
expression is there. But the young man who has no impulse to write,
who says that he could think of nothing to say, it is impossible to
teach him much, because one cannot communicate the desire for
expression.

And the same holds good of life. Those who have strong vital
impulses can learn restraint and choice; but the people who have no