It is a case in which the going-to-happen-ness of a
thing is of greater importance than the actual thing itself which
cannot be of importance to the man who dies, for Death cuts his own
throat in the matter of hurting people. As a bee that can sting once
but in the stinging dies, so Death is dead to him who is dead
already. While he is shaking his wings, there is brutum fulmen but
the man goes on living, frightened, perhaps, but unhurt; pain and
sickness may hurt him but the moment Death strikes him both he and
Death are beyond feeling. It is as though Death were born anew with
every man; the two protect one another so long as they keep one
another at arm's length, but if they once embrace it is all over with
both.
The Torture of Death
The fabled pains of Tantalus, Sisyphus and all the rest of them show
what an instinctive longing there is in all men both for end and
endlessness of both good and ill, but as torture they are the merest
mockery when compared with the fruitless chase to which poor Death
has been condemned for ever and ever. Does it not seem as though he
too must have committed some crime for which his sentence is to be
for ever grasping after that which becomes non-existent the moment he
grasps it? But then I suppose it would be with him as with the rest
of the tortured, he must either die himself, which he has not done,
or become used to it and enjoy the frightening as much as the
killing.
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