Excerpt from Worry: The Disease of the Age
Our "being"s end and aim" is happiness - not necessarily the material happiness of the inebriate or the epicure, but happiness of some kind, having its highest form in the spiritual exaltation of those rare souls who, in this world of shadows and half-lights, have seen a vision and follow the gleam. Thus to worry is to miss the purpose of one"s being: it is to fail - to fail for self, to fail for others, and it is to fail gratuitously. "It is worse than a crime, it is a blunder"; but the blunder is almost universal, and is the characteristic symptom of an age, which - the laudator temporis acti not-withstanding - I believe to be the greatest in human history hitherto. To the evolutionist no other belief is open.
"What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason!... in apprehension how like a god!" Certainly none has a greater right to praise him than his greatest poet. But alas, how significant is the change in meaning of one of Hamlet"s words.
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