terrible, sober daylight wherein we, as Sufferers, saw the things and through the things. We are not angry when the charms of health resume their sport; we look on, as if transformed, mildly and wearily. In this condition we cannot listen to music without weeping.
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The so-called "ego."—Language and the prejudices on which language is based are very much in our way in the exploration of in ward processes and cravings: as an instance we may cite the fact that worlds really exist only for the superlative degrees of these processes and cravings; but now we are accustomed, where we lack words, to give up close observation, because it is painful in this case to think accurately; nay, formerly the involuntary conclusion was, that where the province of words ceased, that of existence ceased likewise. Wrath, hatred, love, pity, desire, recognition, joy, pain, all are names for extreme conditions: the milder, middle stages, and more so. The over-active lower stages escape our attention, and yet it is they which weave the texture of our characters and fate. Those extreme outbursts— and even the most moderate conscious pleasure or displeasure which we may experience while partaking of a dish or hearing a sound is perhaps, if rightly estimated, nothing but an extreme outburst—very often destroy the texture, and then are violent exceptions, mostly in consequence of some congestion; and bow easily can
