Beware of Pity

by Stefan Zweig

always demands a far greater degree of courage for an individual to oppose an organized movement than to let himself be carried along with the stream—individual courage, that is, a variety of courage that is dying out in these times of progressive organization and mechanization.

It is never until one realizes that one means something to others that one feels there is any point or purpose in one’s own existence.

I revelled in my own blissful lightness of heart and the happiness of others, for when one is happy oneself, one can only picture the rest of the world as happy.

Even if I had gone further than in all honesty I should have done, my lies, those lies born of pity, had made her happy; and to make a person happy could never be a crime.

For the first time in my life I began to realize that it is not evil and brutality, but nearly always weakness, that is to blame for the worst things that happen in this world.

But he who is loved without reciprocating that love, is lost beyond redemption; for it is not in his power to set a limit to that other’s passion, to keep it within bounds, and the strongest will is reduced to impotence in the face of another’s desire.

One knows how little one can really do to help; as an individual one can’t cope with the infinite wretchedness that exists all around us in the world. One merely bales a few drops out of the unfathomable ocean of misery with a thimble, and those whom one imagines one has cured today have a new malady tomorrow.