No
new impressions can efface those that are so deeply cut. The scenes
which stand out hard and clear the mind and pen dwell upon.
I would like to claim this observation as my own but it's not. It's Arthur Conan Doyle's. He wasn't though, as I would be, referring to childhood but to heroisms. The heroisms of man: the goals they set themselves, the expeditions to discover new worlds or conquer lands and summits. For man, only man, as a mountaineer might put it, is the heart of action itself. Only man can overcome and affirm himself, and realise himself in the struggle. Only man can touch the absolute – a Oneness or God; can pierce and see above the clouds where He reigns, and know glory. A selfish glory.
Only man knows overblown language.
I would like to claim this observation as my own but it's not. It's Arthur Conan Doyle's. He wasn't though, as I would be, referring to childhood but to heroisms. The heroisms of man: the goals they set themselves, the expeditions to discover new worlds or conquer lands and summits. For man, only man, as a mountaineer might put it, is the heart of action itself. Only man can overcome and affirm himself, and realise himself in the struggle. Only man can touch the absolute – a Oneness or God; can pierce and see above the clouds where He reigns, and know glory. A selfish glory.
Only man knows overblown language.
Picture credit: Ascent to the Summit of Mount Sinai, David Roberts (source: WikiArt).
See The
Lost World by Arthur
Conan Doyle, and Joe Simpson's Introduction to Annapurna
by Maurice Herzog.
Journal
entry, December 2021.
