your deficiencies are as nothing to me, in the sight of that one
unapproachable perfection? For my Corydon is all devotion and love,
and pure, pure, maiden goodness! And there is quite a whole heart
full of feeling for you in that, and I wish I had you here to tell
you.

XXII

MY CORYDON:

I am coming more and more to realize myself, and what is the single
faculty I have been given. I think of a dear clergyman friend I used
to have, and I realize what a _loving_ heart is--what it is to
delight in a human soul for its own sake, and to be kind to it, fond
of it. And I know that there could not be a man with less of that
than I have. Certainly I know this, I never did love a soul for its
own sake, and don't think I could. I love beauty, and truth, and
power, and I hate everything else, if it come across my way. If I
had to live the life of that clergyman friend I should be insane in
a month. I see this as something very hateful; but there is only one
thing I can do, to see that I hate my own self more than I hate any
other self--and work, work, for the thing I love.

You asked me once to tell you if your death would make any
difference to me. If you were to die to-morrow I should feel that a
sacred opportunity was gone out of my life, that all my efforts must
have less result forever after. But I do not think I should stop
working a day.

I love you because you are something upon which I may exert the