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Even this pleasant pathway

... He shrank a little, however, from choosing even this pleasant pathway. He had planned many futures for himself and learnt to love them all. It was this that had made him linger on at Ballah for so long, and it was this that now kept him undecided. He would have to give up the universe for a garden and three gardeners. How sad it was to make substantial even the best of his dreams. How hard it was to submit to that decree which compels every step we take in life to be a death in the imagination. How difficult it was to be so enwrapped in this one new hope as not to hear the lamentations that were going on in dim corners of his mind.
W.B. Yeats, John Sherman (1891)


I love.
Ha, me too! Of course, we're at that age. More (me) or less (you).
I identify with this passage a little too much.
So do I! It really made me cringe, while smiling a little.