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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509107" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Theory Of Truth</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(Reference to The Women at Point Sur)<br>I stand near Soberanes Creek, on the knoll over the sea, west of<br>the road. I remember<br>This is the very place where Arthur Barclay, a priest in revolt,<br>proposed three questions to himself:<br>First, is there a God and of what nature? Second, whether there's<br>anything after we die but worm's meat?<br>Third, how should men live? Large time-worn questions no<br>doubt; yet he touched his answers, they are not unattainable;<br>But presently lost them again in the glimmer of insanity.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">How<br>many minds have worn these questions; old coins<br>Rubbed faceless, dateless. The most have despaired and accepted<br>doctrine; the greatest have achieved answers, but always<br>With aching strands of insanity in them.<br>I think of Lao-tze; and the dear beauty of the Jew whom they<br>crucified but he lived, he was greater than Rome;<br>And godless Buddha under the boh-tree, straining through his<br>mind the delusions and miseries of human life.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why does insanity always twist the great answers?<br>Because only<br>tormented persons want truth.<br>Man is an animal like other animals, wants food and success and<br>women, not truth. Only if the mind<br>Tortured by some interior tension has despaired of happiness:<br>then it hates its life-cage and seeks further,<br>And finds, if it is powerful enough. But instantly the private<br>agony that made the search<br>Muddles the finding.<br>Here was a man who envied the chiefs of<br>the provinces of China their power and pride,<br>And envied Confucius his fame for wisdom. Tortured by hardly<br>conscious envy he hunted the truth of things,<br>Caught it, and stained it through with his private impurity. He<br>praised inaction, silence, vacancy: why?<br>Because the princes and officers were full of business, and wise<br>Confucius of words.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here was a man who was born a bastard, and among the people<br>That more than any in the world valued race-purity, chastity, the<br>prophetic splendors of the race of David.<br>Oh intolerable wound, dimly perceived. Too loving to curse his<br>mother, desert-driven, devil-haunted,<br>The beautiful young poet found truth in the desert, but found also<br>Fantastic solution of hopeless anguish. The carpenter was not his<br>father? Because God was his father,<br>Not a man sinning, but the pure holiness and power of God.<br>His personal anguish and insane solution<br>Have stained an age; nearly two thousand years are one vast poem<br>drunk with the wine of his blood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And here was another Saviour, a prince in India,<br>A man who loved and pitied with such intense comprehension of<br>pain that he was willing to annihilate<br>Nature and the earth and stars, life and mankind, to annul the<br>suffering. He also sought and found truth,<br>And mixed it with his private impurity, the pity, the denials.<br>Then<br>search for truth is foredoomed and frustrate?<br>Only stained fragments?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Until the mind has turned its love from<br>itself and man, from parts to the whole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robinson+Jeffers">Robinson Jeffers</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=509107" data-title="Theory Of Truth de Robinson Jeffers" data-description="(Reference to The Women at Point Sur) I stand near Soberanes Creek, on the knoll over the sea, west of the road. I remember This is the very place where Arthur Barclay, a priest in revolt, proposed three questions to himself: First, is there a God..."></div> </div> </div>
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