large/5293/cruelpainter_1203_librivox_64kb_mp3/cruelpainter_1_macdonald_64kb_39
large/5293/cruelpainter_1203_librivox_64kb_mp3/cruelpainter_1_macdonald_64kb
English
5293
The text, that we know not what a day may bring forth, is just as true of good things as of evil things; and out of Time's womb the facts must come. THE TEXT THAT WE KNOW NOT WHAT A DAY MAY BRING FORTH IS JUST AS TRUE OF GOOD THINGS AS OF EVIL THINGS AND OUT OF TIME'S WOMB THE FACTS MUST COME
round a moment after, and looking at the picture on which her father was working, the tears rose in her eyes, and she said: “Oh! father, how like my mother you have made me this time!” “Child!” retorted the painter with a cold fierceness, “you have no mother. That which is gone out is gone out. Put no name in my hearing on that which is not. Where no substance is, how can there be a name?” Lilith rose and left the room. Wolkenlicht now understood that Lilith was a frozen bud, and could not blossom into a rose. But pure love lives by faith. It loves the vaguely beheld and unrealised ideal. It dares believe that the loved is not all that she ever seemed. It is in virtue of this that love loves on. And it was in virtue of this, that Wolkenlicht loved Lilith yet more after he discovered what a grave of misery her unbelief was digging for her within her own soul. For her sake he would bear anything--bear even with calmness the torments of his own love; he would stay on, hoping and hoping.-- TION SEEMED TO FOLLOW FOR TURNING ROUND A MOMENT AFTER AND LOOKING AT THE PICTURE ON WHICH HER FATHER WAS WORKING THE TEARS ROSE IN HER EYES AND SHE SAID O FATHER HOW LIKE MY MOTHER YOU HAVE MADE ME THIS TIME CHILD RETORTED THE PAINTER WITH A COLD FIERCENESS YOU YOU HAVE NO MOTHER THAT WHICH IS GONE OUT IS GONE OUT PUT NO NAME IN MY HEARING ON THAT WHICH IS NOT WHERE NO SUBSTANCE IS HOW CAN THERE BE A NAME LILITH ROSE AND LEFT THE ROOM VULCANLICHT NOW UNDERSTOOD THAT LILITH WAS A FROZEN BUD AND COULD NOT BLOSSOM INTO A ROSE BUTURE LOVE LIVES BY FAITH IT LOVES THE VAGUELY BEHELD AND UNREALISED IDEAL IT DARES BELIEVE THAT THE LOVED IS NOT ALL THAT SHE EVER SEEMED IT IS IN VIRTUE OF THIS THAT LOVE LOVES ON AND IT WAS IN VIRTUE OF THIS THAT VULKEMICHT LOVED LILITH YET MORE AFTER HE DISCOVERED WHAT A GRAVE OF MISERY HER UNBELIEF WAS DIGGING FOR HER WITHIN HER OWN SOUL FOR HER SAKE HE WOULD BEAR ANY THING BEAR EVEN WITH CALMNESS THE TORMENTS OF HIS OWN LOVE HE WOULD STAY ON HOPING AND HOPING
large/5293/cruelpainter_1203_librivox_64kb_mp3/cruelpainter_1_macdonald_64kb
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