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Selected Writings of Guy De Maupassant by Guy de Maupassant
page 92 of 350 (26%)
oppressing me.

Why? Oh! Now I remember the words of the monk at Mont
Saint-Michel: "Can we see the hundred-thousandth part of what
exists? Listen; there is the wind which is the strongest force in
nature; it knocks men down, blows down buildings, uproots trees,
raises the sea into mountains of water, destroys cliffs, and
casts great ships on to the breakers; it kills, it whistles, it
sighs, it roars,--have you ever seen it, and can you see it? It
exists for all that, however!"

And I went on thinking: my eyes are so weak, so imperfect, that
they do not even distinguish hard bodies, if they are as
transparent as glass! If a glass without quicksilver behind it
were to bar my way, I should run into it, just like a bird which
has flown into a room breaks its head against the windowpanes. A
thousand things, moreover, deceive a man and lead him astray. How
then is it surprising that he cannot perceive a new body which is
penetrated and pervaded by the light?

A new being! Why not? It was assuredly bound to come! Why should
we be the last? We do not distinguish it, like all the others
created before us? The reason is, that its nature is more
delicate, its body finer and more finished than ours. Our makeup
is so weak, so awkwardly conceived; our body is encumbered with
organs that are always tired, always being strained like locks
that are too complicated; it lives like a plant and like an
animal nourishing itself with difficulty on air, herbs, and
flesh; it is a brute machine which is a prey to maladies, to
malformations, to decay; it is broken-winded, badly regulated,
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