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 by 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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