Hurled by fathomless
life-forces into each other's arms, they mingled their kisses with
tears, their joy with pain, and only succeeded in realising the more
vividly a sense of their slavery to the silent Nothing. Forever
united, forever parted, they flashed like sparks, and like sparks went
out in boundless darkness.
Lazarus came to a proud sage, and the sage said to him: "I already
know all the horrors that you may tell me, Lazarus. With what else can
you terrify me?"
Only a few moments passed before the sage realised that the knowledge
of the horrible is not the horrible, and that the sight of death is
not death. And he felt that in the eyes of the Infinite wisdom and
folly are the same, for the Infinite knows them not. And the
boundaries between knowledge and ignorance, between truth and
falsehood, between top and bottom, faded and his shapeless thought was
suspended in emptiness. Then he grasped his grey head in his hands and
cried out insanely: "I cannot think! I cannot think!"
Thus it was that under the cool gaze of Lazarus, the man miraculously
raised from the dead, all that serves to affirm life, its sense and
its joys, perished.
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