The man who is contented to be only himself, and therefore
less a self, is in prison. My own eyes are not enough for me, I will see
through those of others. Reality, even seen through the eyes of many, is not
enough. I will see what others have invented. Even the eyes of all humanity are
not enough. I regret that brutes cannot write books. Very gladly would I
learn what face things present to a mouse or a bee; more gladly still would I
perceive the olfactory world charged with all the information and emotion it
carries for a dog. Literary experience heals the wound, without undermining the
privilege, of individuality. In
reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like
the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad of eyes, but it is still I
who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I
transcend myself; and am never more myself than when I do.
C.S. Lewis
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