The Sacrifice Page #3

And instruments of violence

to keep power. We are like savages!

We use the microscope like a cudgel!

No, that's wrong.

Savages are more spiritual than us!

As soon as we make

a scientific breakthrough

we put it to use

in the service of evil.

And as for the standard,

some wise man once said

that sin

is that which is unnecessary.

If that is so,

then our entire civilisation

is built on sin,

from beginning to end.

We have acquired

a dreadful disharmony

an imbalance, if you will,

between our material

and our spiritual development.

Our culture is defective.

I mean, our civilisation.

Basically defective, my boy!

Perhaps you mean

that we ought to study the problem

and look for a solution together.

Perhaps we could, if it wasn't

so late. Altogether too late.

God, how weary I am of this talk!

"Words, words, words!"

At last, I know what Hamlet meant.

He was fed up with windbags.

And so am I. Why do I talk this way?

If only someone could stop talking

and DO something instead!

Or at least try to.

Little Man!

Little Man!

Dear God, what's wrong with me?

Fantastic!

Such remarkable refinement!

Such wisdom and spirituality!

Also such pure, childlike innocence.

At once profound, yet virginal.

It's unbelievable!

Like a prayer.

And all this has been lost.

We can't even pray any longer.

I had a rotten day today.

Or rather, a day I lost control of.

Thank you, Victor.

A splendid book!

Thanks for the wine, too.

We'll have it later.

Above all, thanks for coming!

Have you...

never felt

that your life was a failure?

No. Why?

I once felt exactly that way.

But since Little Man came along,

all that has changed.

Not all at once, of course.

A bit at a time as he grew bigger.

I'm very attached to him,

too much, I'm afraid.

But there is something

in all this that I resent.

I prepared myself for a life,

a higher life, so to speak.

I studied philosophy,

the history of religion, aesthetics.

And I ended up

putting myself in chains,

of my own free will.

But at the same time, I'm happy.

Today, for example...

What happened today?

I got a telegram from my friends.

As a joke, they signed it:

"Richardians and Idiotists".

Old theatre friends. We played

Shakespeare and Dostoyevsky.

- I remember!

- No!

- Remember what?

- Those performances.

- Oh, come now!

- Yes, I do!

I remember how you dropped

that vase from the tray and broke it!

And your eyes were full of tears.

I remember it well.

The vase, too.

It was white, with blue flowers.

That's right! She does remember!

But those tears meant nothing.

I had something in my eye.

It hurt so, I didn't think

I'd get through the performance.

Alexander was superb

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