The inmost secret, then, lies in not blaming, in not judging and
emitting verdicts. Oh! I do not blame by word of mouth! I am far too
advanced for such a puerility. I keep the blame in my own breast, where
it festers. I am always privately forgiving, which is bad for me.
Because, you know, there is nothing to forgive. I do not have to forgive
bad weather; nor, if I found myself in an earthquake, should I have to
forgive the earthquake.
All blame, uttered or unexpressed, is wrong. I do not blame myself. I
can explain myself to myself. I can invariably explain myself. If I
forged a friend's name on a cheque I should explain the affair quite
satisfactorily to myself. And instead of blaming myself I should
sympathise with myself for having been driven into such an excessively
awkward corner. Let me examine honestly my mental processes, and I must
admit that my attitude towards others is entirely different from my
attitude towards myself. I must admit that in the seclusion of my mind,
though I say not a word, I am constantly blaming others because I am
not happy. Whenever I bump up against an opposing personality and my
smooth progress is impeded, I secretly blame the opposer.
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