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Updated: May 28, 2025
Either that or Nirvana, opposite side of the medal." "There's probably more hate than love in me," said Aaron. "That's the recoil of the same urge. The anarchist, the criminal, the murderer, he is only the extreme lover acting on the recoil. But it is love: only in recoil. It flies back, the love-urge, and becomes a horror." "All right then. I'm a criminal and a murderer," said Aaron.
Then go and join the Buddhists in Burmah, or the newest fangled Christians in Europe. Go and stick your head in a bush of Nirvana or spiritual perfection. Trot off." "I won't," said Aaron. "You must. If you've got a love-urge, then give it its fulfilment." "I haven't got a love-urge." "You have. You want to get excited in love. You want to be carried away in love.
Is it a God you're after? Do you want a God you can strive to and attain, through love, and live happy ever after, countless millions of eternities, immortality and all that? Is this your little dodge?" Again Aaron looked at Lilly with that odd double look of mockery and unwillingness to give himself away. "All right then. You've got a love-urge that urges you to God; have you?
"No, you're not. But you've a love-urge. And perhaps on the recoil just now. But listen to me. It's no good thinking the love-urge is the one and only. Niente! You can whoosh if you like, and get excited and carried away loving a woman, or humanity, or God. Swoop away in the love direction till you lose yourself. But that's where you're had. You can't lose yourself. You can try.
And we've been trying to work ourselves, at least as individuals, from the love-urge exclusively, hating the power-urge, and repressing it. And now I find we've got to accept the very thing we've hated. "We've exhausted our love-urge, for the moment. And yet we try to force it to continue working. So we get inevitably anarchy and murder. It's no good.
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