Properly speaking, he no longer held opinions; he had sympathies. To what party did he belong? To the party of humanity. Among humanities he chose France; within the nation he chose the people; of the people he chose woman. His pity went out to her above all. He now preferred an idea to a fact, a poet to a hero, and he admired a book like Job still more than an event like Marengo. And then when returning at night along the boulevards after a day of meditation he saw through the branches of the trees the fathomless space, the nameless lights, the depths, the darkness, the mystery, everything
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