MY LIFE IS OVER

                       ------George Gissing

Nevertheless, my life is over.

          What a little thing! I knew the philosophers had spoken; I repeated their musical phrases about the mortal span – yet never till now believed them. And this is all? A man’s life can be so brief and so vain? Idly would I persuade myself that life, in the true sense, is only now beginning; that the time of sweat and fear was not life at all, and that is now only depends upon my will to lead a worthy existence. That may be a sort of consolation, but if does not obscure the truth that I shall never again see possibilities and promises opening before me. I have “retired,” and for me as truly as for the retired trades man, life is over. I can look back upon its completed course, and what a little thing! I am tempted to laugh; I hold myself within the limit of a smile.

          And that is best, to smile not in scorn, but in all for bearance, without too much self-compassion.

          After all, that dreadful aspect of the thing never really took hold of me; I could put it by without much effort. Life is done – and what matter? Whether it has been, in sum, painful or enjoyable, even now I cannot say – a fact which in itself should prevent me from taking the loss too seriously. What does it matter? Destiny pass again into silence; is mine either to approve or to rebel? Let me be grateful that I have suffered no intolerable wrong, no terrible woe of flesh or spirit, such as other – alas! Alas! – have found in their lot. Is it not much to have accomplished so large a part of the mortal journey with so much ease? If I find myself astonished at its brevity and small significance, why, that is my own fault; the voices of those gone before had sufficiently warned me. Better to see the troth now, and accept it, than to fall into dread surprise on some day of weakness, and foolishly to cry against fate. I will be glad rather than sorry, and think of the thing no more.