t,
when you have the power to act.
B: But all the books I have read on the liberty of indifference....
A: What do you mean by the liberty of indifference?
B: I mean the liberty of spitting on the right or on the left, of
sleeping on my right side or on my left, of taking a walk of four turns
or five.
A: Really the liberty you would have there would be a comic liberty! God
would have given you a fine gift! It would really be something to boast
of! Of what use to you would be a power which was exercised only on such
futile occasions? But the fact is that it is ridiculous to suppose the
will to wish to spit on the right. Not only is this will to wish absurd,
but it is certain that several trifling circumstances determine you in
these acts that you call indifferent. You are no more free in these acts
than in the others. But, I repeat, you are free at all times, in all
places, as soon as you do what you wish to do.
B: I suspect you are right. I will think about it.[13]
FOOTNOTES:
[13] See "Free-Will."
_LIBRARY_
A big library has this in it of good, that it dismays those who look at
it. Two hundred thousand volumes discourage a man tempted to print; but
unfortunately he at once says to himself: "People do not read all those
books, and they may read mine." He compares himself to a drop of water
who complains of being lost in the ocean and ignored: a genius had pity
on it; he caused it to be swallowed by an oyster; it became the most
beautiful pearl in the Orient, and was the chief ornament in the throne
of the Great Mogul. Those who are only compilers, imitators,
commentators, splitters of phrases, usurious critics, in short, those on
whom a genius has no pity, will always remain drops of water.
Our man works in his garret, therefore, in the hope of becoming a pearl.
It is true that in this immense collection of books there are about a
hundred and ninety-nine thousand which will never be read, from cover to
cover at least; but one may need to consult some of them once in a
lifetime. It is a great advantage for whoever wishes to learn to find at
his hand in the king's palace the volume and page he seeks, without
being kept waiting a moment. It is one of the most noble institutions.
No expense is more magnificent and more useful.
The public library of the King of France is the finest in the whole
world, less on account of the number and rarity of the volumes than of
the ease and courtesy with
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