that thus has changed him; he does not think himself more virtuous than the universe; it is his insignificance in the universe that has been made clear to him.  It is no longer for the spiritual fruit it bears that he tends the love of justice he has found implanted in his soul, but for the living flowers that spring up within him, and because of his deep respect for all created things.  He has no curses for the ungrateful friend, nor even for ingratitude itself.  He does not say, “I am better than that man,” or “I shall not fall into that vice.”  But he is taught by ingratitude that benevolence contains joys that are greater than those that gratitude can bestow; joys that are less personal, but more in harmony with life as a whole.  He finds more pleasure in the attempt to understand that which is, than in the struggle to believe that which he desires.  For a long time he has been like the beggar who was suddenly borne away from his hut and lodged in a magnificent palace.  He awoke and threw uneasy glances about him, seeking, in that immense hall, for the squalid things he remembered to have had in his tiny room.  Where were the hearth, the bed, the table, stool, and basin?  The humble torch of his vigils still trembled by his side, but its light could not reach the lofty ceiling.  The little wings of flame threw their feeble flicker on to a pillar close by, which was all that stood out from the darkness.  But little by little his eyes grew accustomed to his new abode.  He wandered through room after room, and rejoiced as profoundly at all that his torch left in darkness as at all that it threw into light.  At first he could have wished in his heart that the doors had been somewhat less lofty, the staircases not quite so ample, the galleries less lost in gloom; but as he went straight before him, he felt all the beauty and grandeur of that which was yet so unlike the home of his dream.  He rejoiced to discover that here bed and table were not the centre round which all revolved, as it had been with him in his hut.  He was glad that the palace had not been built to conform with the humble habits his misery had forced upon him.  He even learned to admire the things that defeated his hopes, for they enabled his eyes to see deeper.  The sage is consoled and fortified by everything that exists, for indeed it is of the essence of wisdom to seek out all that exists, and to admit it within its circle.

84.  Wisdom even admits the Rogrons; for she holds life of profounder interest than even justice or virtue; and where her attention is disputed by a virtue lost in abstraction, and by a humble, walled-in life, she will incline to the humble life, and not to the magnificent virtue that holds itself proudly aloof.  It is of the nature of wisdom to despise nothing; indeed, in this world there is perhaps only one thing truly contemptible, and that thing is contempt itself.  Thinkers too often are apt to despise those who go through life without thinking.  Thought is doubtless