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Updated: May 18, 2025
He would have us live out our lives, die one by one, till only one remains, and that one at last would die also, and they would cut down all the giant plants and weeds, kill all the giant under-life, burn out the traces of the Food make an end to us and to the Food for ever. Then the little pigmy world would be safe.
From the Elgin marbles down to the lightest tendril that curls round a capital in the thirteenth century, every piece of stone that has been touched by the hand of a master, becomes soft with under-life, not resembling nature merely in skin-texture, nor in fibres of leaf, or veins of flesh; but in the broad, tender, unspeakably subtle undulation of its organic form.
She dwelt upon them and tried to construct an under-life out of the past, made up only of sweet things amongst which all that had not been good should be forgotten. She went for comfort to the days when she had loved Reanda, before their marriage or when she had loved his genius as though it were himself, believing that it was all for her.
Margret stopped, looking back. "Did I call it a bit of hell? It 's only a glimpse of the under-life of America, God help us! where all men are born free and equal." The air in the passage grew fouler. She leaned back faint and shuddering. He did not heed her. The passion of the man, the terrible pity for these people, came out of his soul now, writhing his face, and dulling his eyes.
Tou', tou' pays blare! Danie qui commande ... And then Paris; and the university, with its wild under-life, some debts, some follies; and the frequent fond letters from home to which he might have replied so much oftener; Paris, where talent is mediocrity; Paris, with its thunders and its splendors and its seething of passion; Paris, supreme focus of human endeavor, with its madnesses of art, its frenzied striving to express the Inexpressible, its spasmodic strainings to clutch the Unattainable, its soarings of soul-fire to the heaven of the Impossible ...
This was the under-life, the under-current, of which reformers prate so much and know so little. Why not be greater than they? Why not have been a part of it, and in time to come speak knowingly? He was but a part of this world, as accident had made it. He hoped if the world wagged well to be a protector for certain weak ones. It was a world wherein immediate brute force told.
Margaret stopped, looking back. "Did I call it a bit of hell? It's only a glimpse of the under-life of America, God help us! where all men are born free and equal." The air in the passage grew fouler. She leaned back faint and shuddering. He did not heed her. The passion of the man, the terrible pity for these people, came out of his soul now, whitening his face and dulling his eyes.
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