the Good; it is subject to laws, definite in form. Its echo which returns towards the Infinite is Beauty and Joy, which are difficult to touch or grasp, and so make us beside ourselves. This is what I tried to say by way of a parable or a song in The Echo. That the result was not clear is not to be wondered at, for neither was the attempt then clear unto itself.
Let me set down here part of what I wrote in a letter, at a more advanced age, about the Morning Songs.
"There is none in the World, all are in my heart"—is a state of mind belonging to a particular age. When the heart is first awakened it puts forth its arms and would grasp the whole world, like the teething infant which thinks everything meant for its mouth. Gradually it comes to understand what it really wants and what it does not. Then do its nebulous emanations shrink upon themselves, get heated, and heat in their turn.
To begin by wanting the whole world is to get nothing. When desire is concentrated, with the whole strength of one's being upon any one object whatsoever it might be, then does the gateway to the Infinite become visible. The Morning Songs were the first throwing forth of my inner self outwards, and consequently they lack any signs of such concentration.
This all-pervading joy of a first outflow, however, has the effect of leading us to an acquaintance with the particular. The lake in its
