self, nor know that this particular suffering would be bettered by
that particular supply. Appetite is a mere instinct. In the mechanic
structure of my being it is planned that without comprehension of the
want I shall be impelled to the source of supply. But when appetite is
permeated with a consciousness of what is lacking, I apprehend it as a
need. Through needs we become persons. The capacity for
dissatisfaction is the sublime thing in man. We can know our poor
estate. We can say, That which I am I would not be. Passing the blind
point of appetite, we come into the region of want or need; if we then
can discern what is requisite to supply this need, we may be said to
have a desire. That desire, if specific and urgent, we call a wish.

All these varieties of desire include the same two factors: on the one
hand a recognition of present defect in ourselves, on the other
imagination of possible bettered conditions. Diminish either, and
personal power is narrowed. The richer a man's imagination, and the
more abundant his pictures of possible futures, the more resourceful
he becomes. Pondering on desire as rooted in the sense of defect, we
may feel less regret that our age is one not easily satisfied. Never
were there so many discontents, because there were never so many
aspirations. It is true there may be a devilish discontent or a divine
one. There is a discontent without definite aims, one which merely
rejects what is now possessed; and there is one which seeks what is
wisely attainable. Yet after all, it is a small price to pay for
aspiration that it is often attended by vagueness and unwisdom.



V