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SUNLIGHT 127
discouragement, they sit around in a state of collapse,
shivering, with an expression of such hopelessness on
their faces as if their lives had suffered ship-wreck.
But let even the tiniest rent appear in the clouds, and it
will be reflected in their eyes, and as soon as the sun
shines forth again the whole sad business is forgotten
—not to be treasured, like our misfortunes, in one of
the obscure corners of the spirit—but forgotten, wiped
out. They hum and joke, work like beasts of burden
for a day, in order to lie about idly in the sunlight on
the following day; they drink from every brook and
spring they encounter; they gnaw a bit of bark for
food, and are happy, care-free—mindless of the day
that is to come.
It appears that the sun, which destroys so many bac-
teria, destroys care. In the innermost spirit of the
Andalusian there are no lightless corners where bitter
experiences accumulate a sort of mold—but as well
they have no recesses in which such unhappiness and
bitter experience may precipitate and solidify into some
sort of useful guide for the future. If you should tell
an Andalusian that ugly experiences make a man
harder and develop his character, he would look at
you open-mouthed; such conceptions as personality and
character, in our sense of the word, are to his mind—
if he ever encounters them—merely expressions of a
disturbed digestion. The thought of living his life in
accordance with some collective idea, and setting him-
self a goal and patiently striving for this goal in spite
of distress and self-denial—perhaps even risking the
probability that the goal will never be realized before
death comes and bars all doors—such a thought would
be monstrously funny to him. He is a child of the
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