Never were all graces given to any man.
The anxiety to
do well, and the struggling of the mind too constrained and too intent upon its
undertaking, bewilder, interrupt and impede the intent. As happens to water,
which by force of pressure from its violence and abundance, cannot vent itself
in an open sluice.
As was my
experience with learning magic.
Some men… or
women wield it better without preparation; that they owe more to good fortune
than to diligence. They experience an inborn disposition which cannot sustain
eager and laborious premeditation; if it does not move joyously and freely, it
does nothing that is worth while.
I used to say of
others that ‘they smell of the oil and lamp,’ because of a certain harshness
and roughness which labor imparts to those in which it has a large share. But
in studying further magic with Gasadrael I find that it demands not to be set
in motion and spurred by the strong passions, like the sorcerers (for that
impulsion would be too violent); it requires to be kindled and aroused by
outward circumstances, immediate and accidental. If allowed to move by itself
unshaped, it does but drag along and hang fire. Excitement is its life and is
favorable to it. And yet it is willing
and supplicant to focused intent, not unlike the precision with which I wield
my knife.
Perhaps there are undiscovered synergies in the two compliments that I endeavor to harness.
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