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· The Ecstasy of Self-Abnegation The earth was burning like fire. All around lay thorns. There was no track anywhere to move along. I wanted to go to the other side. I halted. But—but then, there flashed up a rose. It splashed streams of fragrance, of laughter; and pacing across my way it scattered its petals and spread them upon the earth. Below were thorns and above the scattered rose petals, soft and delicate. I moved on, pacing upon them.
Then came the night. As I lay in bed, environed by darkness, the wounds that had shot into the tender rose-petals, struck dire pangs into my breast and the laceration they had undergone inflamed my whole being; on the other hand, the rose-petals were laughing blissfully and, as if lying in an enamoured bed, were enjoying the coolness of the air all around.
Between us two, there had been an interchange of anguish, as it were. The thorns pricked the flower, but it was I who bled; sunshine poured upon the flower, but I felt the heat! Ah! how wondrous this ineffable ecstasy of self-abnegation!
