If I limit my view to the time that has passed in my life up to now, and, with my pulse rate as a fear meter, see death coming nearer, then I have to conceive of my life as an isolated travesty. But if I experience, feel, my life as an example of something that stays alive no matter what, something that occasionally attains expression in me as in others, then I experience life as an anonymous drawing in which only the human characteristics shift.
