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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"The Flight of the Shadow"

When I knew he was gone, I shed more tears over him than I
had yet shed over my twin: the worm that never dies made my brain too hot
to weep much for Edmund. Then first I saw that my elder brother had been
a brother indeed; and that we twins had never been real to each other. I
saw what nothing but self-loathing would ever have brought me to see,
that my love to Edmund had not been profound: while a man is himself
shallow, how should his love be deep! I saw that we had each loved our
elder brother in a truer and better fashion than we had loved each other.
One of the chief active bonds between us had been fun; another, habit;
and another, constitutional resemblance--not one of them strong.
Underneath were bonds far stronger, but they had never come into
conscious play; no strain had reached them. They were there, I say; for
wherever is the poorest flower of love, it is there in virtue of the
perfect root of love; and love's root must one day blossom into love's
perfect rose. My chief consolation under the burden of my guilt is, that
I love my brother since I killed him, far more than I loved him when we
were all to each other. Had we never quarrelled, and were he alive, I
should not be loving him thus!
"That we shall meet again, and live in the devotion of a far deeper love,
I feel in the very heart of my soul. That it is my miserable need that
has wrought in me this confidence, is no argument against the confidence.


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