Your
son is in a burning house. Nobody can hold you back. You may burn up, but what
do you think of that? You are ready to bequeath the rags of your body to any
man who will take them. You discover that what you set so much store by is
trash. You would sell your hand, if need be, to give a hand to a friend. It is
in your act that you exist, not in your body. Your act is yourself, and there
is no other you. Your body belongs to you: it is not you. Are you about to
strike an enemy? No threat of bodily harm can hold you back. You? It is the
death of your enemy that is you. You? It is the rescue of your child that is
you. In that moment you exchange yourself against something else; and you have
no feeling that you lost by the exchange. Your members? Tools. A tool snaps in
your hand: how important is that tool? You exchange yourself against the death
of your enemy, the rescue of your child, the recovery of your patient, the
perfection of your theorem...Your true significance becomes dazzlingly evident.
Your true name is duty, hatred, love, child, theorem. There is no other you
than this.
