IX. THE ARTIST'S SECRET.
I. THE LOST JOY.
II. THE HUNTER.
IV. IN A FAR-OFF WORLD.
V. THREE DREAMS IN A DESERT.
VI. A DREAM OF WILD BEES.
VII. IN A RUINED CHAPEL.
VIII. LIFE'S GIFTS.
IX. THE ARTIST'S SECRET.
X. "I THOUGHT I STOOD."
Dreams

I had a terminal disease
Polaroids, Sex, Thrift stores.....
Tornados And The Store
WRITES DEATH POEM ON FATAL PLANE FLIGHT.
the dream
Airport Shiva
Sweet Embrace
THE SCAR IN THE MOUSTACHE
Everyone Went To Mac
Poetry Writing Bingo Playing Church Goers
Running Away
Nate/Camp
the dream in which i died,but i didn't care
rummage sale
spilling
All Creatures Great and Gross
scary man with mallet
This is For u Liz.........lol
Making Out
3 of cups
Heidi Brandon Jeremy
shock that monkey
Toilet and Mirror Art
Little Treasures.
Good thinking

Author: Olive Schreiner





In certain valleys there was a hunter. Day by day he went to hunt forwild-fowl in the woods; and it chanced that once he stood on the shores ofa large lake. While he stood waiting in the rushes for the coming of thebirds, a great shadow fell on him, and in the water he saw a reflection. He looked up to the sky; but the thing was gone. Then a burning desirecame over him to see once again that reflection in the water, and all dayhe watched and waited; but night came and it had not returned. Then hewent home with his empty bag, moody and silent. His comrades camequestioning about him to know the reason, but he answered them nothing; hesat alone and brooded. Then his friend came to him, and to him he spoke."I have seen today," he said, "that which I never saw before--a vast whitebird, with silver wings outstretched, sailing in the everlasting blue. Andnow it is as though a great fire burnt within my breast. It was but asheen, a shimmer, a reflection in the water; but now I desire nothing moreon earth than to hold her."His friend laughed."It was but a beam playing on the water, or the shadow of your own head. Tomorrow you will forget her," he said.But tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow the hunter walked alone. Hesought in the forest and in the woods, by the lakes and among the rushes,but he could not find her. He shot no more wild fowl; what were they tohim?"What ails him?" said his comrades."He is mad," said one."No; but he is worse," said another; "he would see that which none of ushave seen, and make himself a wonder.""Come, let us forswear his company," said all.So the hunter walked alone.One night, as he wandered in the shade, very heartsore and weeping, an oldman stood before him, grander and taller than the sons of men."Who are you?" asked the hunter."I am Wisdom," answered the old man; "but some men call me Knowledge. Allmy life I have grown in these valleys; but no man sees me till he hassorrowed much. The eyes must be washed with tears that are to behold me;and, according as a man has suffered, I speak."And the hunter cried:"Oh, you who have lived here so long, tell me, what is that great wild birdI have seen sailing in the blue? They would have me believe she is adream; the shadow of my own head."The old man smiled."Her name is Truth. He who has once seen her never rests again. Tilldeath he desires her."And the hunter cried:"Oh, tell me where I may find her."But the old man said:"You have not suffered enough," and went.Then the hunter took from his breast the shuttle of Imagination, and woundon it the thread of his Wishes; and all night he sat and wove a net.In the morning he spread the golden net upon the ground, and into it hethrew a few grains of credulity, which his father had left him, and whichhe kept in his breast-pocket. They were like white puff-balls, and whenyou trod on them a brown dust flew out. Then he sat by to see what wouldhappen. The first that came into the net was a snow-white bird, withdove's eyes, and he sang a beautiful song--"A human-God! a human-God! ahuman-God!" it sang. The second that came was black and mystical, withdark, lovely eyes, that looked into the depths of your soul, and he sangonly this--"Immortality!"And the hunter took them both in his arms, for he said--"They are surely of the beautiful family of Truth."Then came another, green and gold, who sang in a shrill voice, like onecrying in the marketplace,--"Reward after Death! Reward after Death!"And he said--"You are not so fair; but you are fair too," and he took it.And others came, brightly coloured, singing pleasant songs, till all thegrains were finished. And the hunter gathered all his birds together, andbuilt a strong iron cage called a new creed, and put all his birds in it.Then the people came about dancing and singing."Oh, happy hunter!" they cried. "Oh, wonderful man! Oh, delightful birds! Oh, lovely songs!"No one asked where the birds had come from, nor how they had been caught;but they danced and sang before them. And the hunter too was glad, for hesaid:"Surely Truth is among them. In time she will moult her feathers, and Ishall see her snow-white form."But the time passed, and the people sang and danced; but the hunter's heartgrew heavy. He crept alone, as of old, to weep; the terrible desire hadawakened again in his breast. One day, as he sat alone weeping, it chancedthat Wisdom met him. He told the old man what he had done.And Wisdom smiled sadly."Many men," he said, "have spread that net for Truth; but they have neverfound her. On the grains of credulity she will not feed; in the net ofwishes her feet cannot be held; in the air of these valleys she will notbreathe. The birds you have caught are of the brood of Lies. Lovely andbeautiful, but still lies; Truth knows them not."And the hunter cried out in bitterness--"And must I then sit still, to be devoured of this great burning?"And the old man said,"Listen, and in that you have suffered much and wept much, I will tell youwhat I know. He who sets out to search for Truth must leave these valleysof superstition forever, taking with him not one shred that has belonged tothem. Alone he must wander down into the Land of Absolute Negation andDenial; he must abide there; he must resist temptation; when the lightbreaks he must arise and follow it into the country of dry sunshine. Themountains of stern reality will rise before him; he must climb them; beyondthem lies Truth.""And he will hold her fast! he will hold her in his hands!" the huntercried.Wisdom shook his head."He will never see her, never hold her. The time is not yet.""Then there is no hope?" cried the hunter."There is this," said Wisdom: "Some men have climbed on those mountains;circle above circle of bare rock they have scaled; and, wandering there, inthose high regions, some have chanced to pick up on the ground one whitesilver feather, dropped from the wing of Truth. And it shall come topass," said the old man, raising himself prophetically and pointing withhis finger to the sky, "it shall come to pass, that when enough of thosesilver feathers shall have been gathered by the hands of men, and shallhave been woven into a cord, and the cord into a net, that in that netTruth may be captured. Nothing but Truth can hold Truth."The hunter arose. "I will go," he said.But wisdom detained him."Mark you well--who leaves these valleys never returns to them. Though heshould weep tears of blood seven days and nights upon the confines, he cannever put his foot across them. Left--they are left forever. Upon theroad which you would travel there is no reward offered. Who goes, goesfreely--for the great love that is in him. The work is his reward.""I go" said the hunter; "but upon the mountains, tell me, which path shallI take?""I am the child of The-Accumulated-Knowledge-of-Ages," said the man; "I canwalk only where many men have trodden. On these mountains few feet havepassed; each man strikes out a path for himself. He goes at his own peril: my voice he hears no more. I may follow after him, but cannot go beforehim."Then Knowledge vanished.And the hunter turned. He went to his cage, and with his hands broke downthe bars, and the jagged iron tore his flesh. It is sometimes easier tobuild than to break.One by one he took his plumed birds and let them fly. But when he came tohis dark-plumed bird he held it, and looked into its beautiful eyes, andthe bird uttered its low, deep cry--"Immortality!"And he said quickly: "I cannot part with it. It is not heavy; it eats nofood. I will hide it in my breast; I will take it with me." And he buriedit there and covered it over with his cloak.But the thing he had hidden grew heavier, heavier, heavier--till it lay onhis breast like lead. He could not move with it. He could not leave thosevalleys with it. Then again he took it out and looked at it."Oh, my beautiful! my heart's own!" he cried, "may I not keep you?"He opened his hands sadly."Go!" he said. "It may happen that in Truth's song one note is like yours;but I shall never hear it."Sadly he opened his hand, and the bird flew from him forever.Then from the shuttle of Imagination he took the thread of his wishes, andthrew it on the ground; and the empty shuttle he put into his breast, forthe thread was made in those valleys, but the shuttle came from an unknowncountry. He turned to go, but now the people came about him, howling."Fool, hound, demented lunatic!" they cried. "How dared you break yourcage and let the birds fly?'The hunter spoke; but they would not hear him."Truth! who is she? Can you eat her? can you drink her? Who has ever seenher? Your birds were real: all could hear them sing! Oh, fool! vilereptile! atheist!" they cried, "you pollute the air.""Come, let us take up stones and stone him," cried some."What affair is it of ours?" said others. "Let the idiot go," and wentaway. But the rest gathered up stones and mud and threw at him. At last,when he was bruised and cut, the hunter crept away into the woods. And itwas evening about him.He wandered on and on, and the shade grew deeper. He was on the bordersnow of the land where it is always night. Then he stepped into it, andthere was no light there. With his hands he groped; but each branch as hetouched it broke off, and the earth was covered with cinders. At every stephis foot sank in, and a fine cloud of impalpable ashes flew up into hisface; and it was dark. So he sat down upon a stone and buried his face inhis hands, to wait in the Land of Negation and Denial till the light came.And it was night in his heart also.Then from the marshes to his right and left cold mists arose and closedabout him. A fine, imperceptible rain fell in the dark, and great dropsgathered on his hair and clothes. His heart beat slowly, and a numbnesscrept through all his limbs. Then, looking up, two merry wisp lights camedancing. He lifted his head to look at them. Nearer, nearer they came. So warm, so bright, they danced like stars of fire. They stood before himat last. From the centre of the radiating flame in one looked out awoman's face, laughing, dimpled, with streaming yellow hair. In the centreof the other were merry laughing ripples, like the bubbles on a glass ofwine. They danced before him."Who are you," asked the hunter, "who alone come to me in my solitude anddarkness?""We are the twins Sensuality," they cried. "Our father's name is Human-Nature, and our mother's name is Excess. We are as old as the hills andrivers, as old as the first man; but we never die," they laughed."Oh, let me wrap my arms about you!" cried the first; "they are soft andwarm. Your heart is frozen now, but I will make it beat. Oh, come to me!""I will pour my hot life into you," said the second; "your brain is numb,and your limbs are dead now; but they shall live with a fierce free life. Oh, let me pour it in!""Oh, follow us," they cried, "and live with us. Nobler hearts than yourshave sat here in this darkness to wait, and they have come to us and we tothem; and they have never left us, never. All else is a delusion, but weare real, we are real, we are real. Truth is a shadow; the valleys ofsuperstition are a farce: the earth is of ashes, the trees all rotten; butwe--feel us--we live! You cannot doubt us. Feel us how warm we are! Oh,come to us! Come with us!"Nearer and nearer round his head they hovered, and the cold drops melted onhis forehead. The bright light shot into his eyes, dazzling him, and thefrozen blood began to run. And he said:"Yes, why should I die here in this awful darkness? They are warm, theymelt my frozen blood!" and he stretched out his hands to take them.Then in a moment there arose before him the image of the thing he hadloved, and his hand dropped to his side."Oh, come to us!" they cried.But he buried his face."You dazzle my eyes," he cried, "you make my heart warm; but you cannotgive me what I desire. I will wait here--wait till I die. Go!"He covered his face with his hands and would not listen; and when he lookedup again they were two twinkling stars, that vanished in the distance.And the long, long night rolled on.All who leave the valley of superstition pass through that dark land; butsome go through it in a few days, some linger there for months, some foryears, and some die there.At last for the hunter a faint light played along the horizon, and he roseto follow it; and he reached that light at last, and stepped into the broadsunshine. Then before him rose the almighty mountains of Dry-facts andRealities. The clear sunshine played on them, and the tops were lost inthe clouds. At the foot many paths ran up. An exultant cry burst from thehunter. He chose the straightest and began to climb; and the rocks andridges resounded with his song. They had exaggerated; after all, it wasnot so high, nor was the road so steep! A few days, a few weeks, a fewmonths at most, and then the top! Not one feather only would he pick up;he would gather all that other men had found--weave the net--capture Truth--hold her fast--touch her with his hands--clasp her!He laughed in the merry sunshine, and sang loud. Victory was very near. Nevertheless, after a while the path grew steeper. He needed all hisbreath for climbing, and the singing died away. On the right and left rosehuge rocks, devoid of lichen or moss, and in the lava-like earth chasmsyawned. Here and there he saw a sheen of white bones. Now too the pathbegan to grow less and less marked; then it became a mere trace, with afootmark here and there; then it ceased altogether. He sang no more, butstruck forth a path for himself, until it reached a mighty wall of rock,smooth and without break, stretching as far as the eye could see. "I willrear a stair against it; and, once this wall climbed, I shall be almostthere," he said bravely; and worked. With his shuttle of imagination hedug out stones; but half of them would not fit, and half a month's workwould roll down because those below were ill chosen. But the hunter workedon, saying always to himself, "Once this wall climbed, I shall be almostthere. This great work ended!"At last he came out upon the top, and he looked about him. Far belowrolled the white mist over the valleys of superstition, and above himtowered the mountains. They had seemed low before; they were of animmeasurable height now, from crown to foundation surrounded by walls ofrock, that rose tier above tier in mighty circles. Upon them played theeternal sunshine. He uttered a wild cry. He bowed himself on to theearth, and when he rose his face was white. In absolute silence he walkedon. He was very silent now. In those high regions the rarefied air ishard to breathe by those born in the valleys; every breath he drew hurthim, and the blood oozed out from the tips of his fingers. Before the nextwall of rock he began to work. The height of this seemed infinite, and hesaid nothing. The sound of his tool rang night and day upon the iron rocksinto which he cut steps. Years passed over him, yet he worked on; but thewall towered up always above him to heaven. Sometimes he prayed that alittle moss or lichen might spring up on those bare walls to be a companionto him; but it never came.And the years rolled on; he counted them by the steps he had cut--a few fora year--only a few. He sang no more; he said no more, "I will do this orthat"--he only worked. And at night, when the twilight settled down, therelooked out at him from the holes and crevices in the rocks strange wildfaces."Stop your work, you lonely man, and speak to us," they cried."My salvation is in work, if I should stop but for one moment you wouldcreep down upon me," he replied. And they put out their long necksfurther."Look down into the crevice at your feet," they said. "See what lie there--white bones! As brave and strong a man as you climbed to these rocks." And he looked up. He saw there was no use in striving; he would never holdTruth, never see her, never find her. So he lay down here, for he was verytired. He went to sleep forever. He put himself to sleep. Sleep is verytranquil. You are not lonely when you are asleep, neither do your handsache, nor your heart. And the hunter laughed between his teeth."Have I torn from my heart all that was dearest; have I wandered alone inthe land of night; have I resisted temptation; have I dwelt where the voiceof my kind is never heard, and laboured alone, to lie down and be food foryou, ye harpies?"He laughed fiercely; and the Echoes of Despair slunk away, for the laugh ofa brave, strong heart is as a death blow to them.Nevertheless they crept out again and looked at him."Do you know that your hair is white?" they said, "that your hands begin totremble like a child's? Do you see that the point of your shuttle isgone?--it is cracked already. If you should ever climb this stair," theysaid, "it will be your last. You will never climb another."And he answered, "I know it!" and worked on.The old, thin hands cut the stones ill and jaggedly, for the fingers werestiff and bent. The beauty and the strength of the man was gone.At last, an old, wizened, shrunken face looked out above the rocks. It sawthe eternal mountains rise with walls to the white clouds; but its work wasdone.The old hunter folded his tired hands and lay down by the precipice wherehe had worked away his life. It was the sleeping time at last. Below himover the valleys rolled the thick white mist. Once it broke; and throughthe gap the dying eyes looked down on the trees and fields of theirchildhood. From afar seemed borne to him the cry of his own wild birds,and he heard the noise of people singing as they danced. And he thought heheard among them the voices of his old comrades; and he saw far off thesunlight shine on his early home. And great tears gathered in the hunter'seyes."Ah! they who die there do not die alone," he cried.Then the mists rolled together again; and he turned his eyes away."I have sought," he said, "for long years I have laboured; but I have notfound her. I have not rested, I have not repined, and I have not seen her;now my strength is gone. Where I lie down worn out other men will stand,young and fresh. By the steps that I have cut they will climb; by thestairs that I have built they will mount. They will never know the name ofthe man who made them. At the clumsy work they will laugh; when the stonesroll they will curse me. But they will mount, and on my work; they willclimb, and by my stair! They will find her, and through me! And no manliveth to himself and no man dieth to himself."The tears rolled from beneath the shrivelled eyelids. If Truth hadappeared above him in the clouds now he could not have seen her, the mistof death was in his eyes."My soul hears their glad step coming," he said; "and they shall mount!they shall mount!" He raised his shrivelled hand to his eyes.Then slowly from the white sky above, through the still air, came somethingfalling, falling, falling. Softly it fluttered down, and dropped on to thebreast of the dying man. He felt it with his hands. It was a feather. Hedied holding it.III. THE GARDENS OF PLEASURE.She walked upon the beds, and the sweet rich scent arose; and she gatheredher hands full of flowers. Then Duty, with his white clear features, cameand looked at her. Then she ceased from gathering, but she walked awayamong the flowers, smiling, and with her hands full.Then Duty, with his still white face, came again, and looked at her; butshe, she turned her head away from him. At last she saw his face, and shedropped the fairest of the flowers she had held, and walked silently away.Then again he came to her. And she moaned, and bent her head low, andturned to the gate. But as she went out she looked back at the sunlight onthe faces of the flowers, and wept in anguish. Then she went out, and itshut behind her for ever; but still in her hand she held of the buds shehad gathered, and the scent was very sweet in the lonely desert.But he followed her. Once more he stood before her with his still, white,death-like face. And she knew what he had come for: she unbent thefingers, and let the flowers drop out, the flowers she had loved so, andwalked on without them, with dry, aching eyes. Then for the last time hecame. And she showed him her empty hands, the hands that held nothing now.But still he looked. Then at length she opened her bosom and took out ofit one small flower she had hidden there, and laid it on the sand. She hadnothing more to give now, and she wandered away, and the grey sand whirledabout her.

Birthday Wisdom Wisdom Lovely Island Island Victory Sleep Despair

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