which is greater than themselves ... in
spending oneself with no reward but to know that one is spent well!..."

They would enlist the young men of generous mind. They would open their
minds to the knowledge of the wide world, and would pity the man who was
content only to be an islander; and they would give the harvest of their
minds to their juniors, so that they, when they grew to manhood, might
find greater ease in working for the common good. They would demand, not
privileges, but responsibilities. "If we cannot make decisions, even
when we decide wrongly, then we are not men!"

"We must kill the Publican, we must subdue the Priest, we must humiliate
the Politician, and chasten the Poet...."

"In all our ways, O God, let us guide ourselves!..."

It seemed to him that God was not a Being who miraculously made the
world, but a Being who laboured at it, suffered and failed, and rose
again and achieved.... He could hear God, stumbling through the
Universe, full of the agony of desire, calling continually, "Let there
be Light! Let there be Light!..."

4

He looked about him. Behind him, lay the long broken line of the Wicklow
mountains, with the Sugar Loaf thrusting its pointed head into the
heavens. There in front of him, heaving and tumbling, was the sea: a
miracle of healing and cleansing. It would be good, he thought, to spend
one's life in the sound of the sea, taking no care for the lives of
other men, content that oneself was fed and comfortable. "But that would
not be enough. There must be Light and More Light!"

"God," he said, "has many forms. In that place, he is a Quietness ... in
this place, a Discontent ... in a third place, a Quest."

"But here, God is a Demand. 'Let there be Light! Let there be more
Light!'"

5

He went home and wrote to Mary. "_My impulse is to tell you no more than
this, that I love you. I wrote to you this morning, and I have nothing
to add that is news. But I feel an overpowering desire to insist on my
love for you ... to do nothing for ever but love you and love you....
You see the mood I'm in! I went out of Dublin to-day, sulking and
depressed because John Marsh had failed me and I was lonely, but now I'm
extraordinarily happy. I feel that I have only to stretch out my hand
and touch you ... and then I shall be depressed no more. This is not a
letter. It has no beginning and it will have no end. It's an outpouring.
To-night is very beautiful. I went up to my bedroom