nose. Not passivity, but alert enjoyment of being central, life-central in one's own little circumambient world.
They sat thus still—or lay under the trees—for an hour and a half. Then Lilly paid the bill, and went on.
"What am I going to do this winter, do you think?" Aaron asked.
"What do you want to do?"
"Nay, that's what I want to know."
"Do you want anything? I mean, does something drive you from inside?"
"I can't just rest," said Aaron.
"Can't you settle down to something?—to a job, for instance?"
"I've not found the job I could settle down to, yet," said Aaron.
"Why not?"
"It's just my nature."
"Are you a seeker? Have you got a divine urge, or need?"
"How do I know?" laughed Aaron. "Perhaps I've got a damned urge, at the bottom of me. I'm sure it's nothing divine."
"Very well then. Now, in life, there are only two great dynamic urges—do you believe me—?"
"How do I know?" laughed Aaron. "Do you want to be believed?"
"No, I don't care a straw. Only for your own sake, you'd better believe me."
"All right then—what about it?"
"Well, then, there are only two great dynamic urges in life: love and power."
"Love and power?" said Aaron. "I don't see power as so very important."
"You don't see because you don't look. But that's not the point. What sort of urge is your urge? Is it the love urge?"
"I don't know," said Aaron.
"Yes, you do. You know that you have got an urge, don't you?"
"Yes—" rather unwillingly Aaron admitted it.
