What It thinks, that It utters;
and what It utters, that It hears; and It itself is Thinker, Utterer,
Hearer, Thought, Word, Audition; it is the One, and yet
the All in All. Ah, the happiness ah, the happiness of Being!"
"Can you not startle the little thing out of its complacency?" said I.
"Tell it what it really is, as you told me; reveal to it
the narrow limitations of Pointland, and lead it up to
something higher." "That is no easy task," said my Master; "try you."
Hereon, raising my voice to the uttermost, I addressed the Point
as follows:
"Silence, silence, contemptible Creature. You call yourself
the All in All, but you are the Nothing: your so-called Universe
is a mere speck in a Line, and a Line is a mere shadow
as compared with --" "Hush, hush, you have said enough,"
interrupted the Sphere, "now listen, and mark the effect
of your harangue on the King of Pointland."
The lustre of the Monarch, who beamed more brightly than ever upon
hearing my words, shewed clearly that he retained his complacency;
and I had hardly ceased when he took up his strain again.
"Ah, the joy, ah, the joy of Thought! What can It not achieve
by thinking! Its own Thought coming to Itself, suggestive of
Its disparagement, thereby to enhance Its happiness! Sweet rebellion
stirred up to result in triumph! Ah, the divine creative power
of the All in One! Ah, the joy, the joy of Being!"
"You see," said my Teacher, "how little your words have done.
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