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Inferno relates how grateful and even reverential
he was to the nurse who tended him in hospital,
and to his mother-in-law. He felt profoundly
the charm of innocent childhood, and paternal
instincts were strong in him. All his life long
he had to struggle with four terrible inner
foes—doubt, suspicion, fear, sensuality. His doubts
destroyed his early faith, his ceaseless suspicions
made it impossible for him to be happy in
friendship or love, his fear of the “invisible powers,”
as he calls them, robbed him of all peace of
mind, and his sensuality dragged him repeatedly
into the mire. A “strange mixture of a
man” indeed, whose soul was the scene of an
internecine life-long warfare between
diametrically-opposed forces! Yet he never ceased to
struggle blindly upwards, and Goethe’s words
were verified in him:
“Wer immer strebend sich bemüht
Den können wir erlösen.”
“Who never ceases still to strive,
’T is him we can deliver.”
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