"Mankind would always remain a race of low intelligence and evil instincts." Let it perish, the sooner the better.
And then, gradually, out of his despair, had arisen in him a great pity for God. It startled him at first. It was so grotesque an idea. And yet it grew upon him. The mysterious warfare between Good and Evil. It shaped itself in his brain, a thing concrete, visible. The loneliness of God. He saw Him as a Leader betrayed, deserted; his followers fleeing from him, hastening to make their peace with evil. He must find his way to God's side. God wanted him.
It was no passing mood. The thought took possession of him. All other voices sounded to him faint and trivial.
His sorrow was for her. If he could but have spared her. For himself he felt joy that the struggle was over, that he had conquered, that nothing now could turn him from his purpose. He would get rid of all his affairs—of everything, literally. Not for the sake of the poor. If all the riches of the world were gathered together and given to the poor it would be but a stirring of the waters, a moment's shifting of the social landmarks. Greed and selfishness would shape themselves anew. From time immemorial the rich had
