But his longing to be able to desire sin did not lead him to desire it
actually. One can force one's self to do a thing, you see, but one cannot
force one's self to wish to do it, or to enjoy doing it. And this man,
being a selfish saint--saints are very often very selfish--would not sin
without desiring it. So it seemed that he must remain forever as he was,
a human piece of flawless porcelain, wishing to be cracked and common
delft."
"Whatever did he wish it for?" asked Cuckoo, with the surprise of a zany.
"Who can tell why one man wishes for one thing, another for another?
That, too, is a mystery. The point is, that he did wish it, and that he
did something more."
"What was that, eh?"
"He deliberately tried to weaken and to deface his will; to alter it.
And he chose curious means, acting under suggestion from another will
or influence that was more powerful than his own, because it was utterly
self-satisfied and desired only to be what it was. I don't think I will
tell you what the means were. But his original dissatisfaction with his
own goodness was the weapon that brought about his own destruction. His
will did not change, as he believed; but what do you think actually
happened to it? I will tell you.
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