OF THE FRIEND
" ' There is always one too many about me ' thus thinketh the hermit. ' Always once one that maketh in the long run two.'
I and me are always too eager in a conversation : how could it be borne if there were not a friend ?
For the hermit a friend is always the third one : the third one is the cork that hindereth the conversation of the two from sinking into the depth.
Alas ! there are too many depths for all hermits. That is why they long so much for a friend and his height.
Our belief in others betrayeth what we would fain believe in ourselves. Our longing for a friend is our betrayer.
And often with love one only trieth to overleap envy. And frequently one assaileth and maketh another one's enemy in order to hide the fact of one's self being assailable.
' Be at least mine enemy,' thus saith true reverence that dareth not ask for friendship.
If one seek to have a friend one must also be ready to wage war for him : and in order to wage war one must be able to be an enemy.
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