Jack the Giant Killer
Mr. Chesterton; turning my world upside down, bringing back my humanity, and killing me softly… That is, killing the “giants” that roamed about in my head, that I may be free to be born a child once more. I don’t quite know how all those ascetic and gnostic notions ended up in there, but they did. The idea that in order to be strong, I must care less. It is good to see whence the spirits came, and what nonsense they all come to in the end.
“The modern world, when it praises its little Caesars, talks of being strong and brave: but it does not seem to see the eternal paradox involved in the conjunction of these ideas. The strong cannot be brave. Only the weak can be brave; and yet again, in practice, only those who can be brave can be trusted, in time of doubt, to be strong.
…But the old hero was a being who, like Achilles, was more human than humanity itself. Nietzsche’s Superman is cold and friendless. Achilles is so foolishly fond of his friend that he slaughters armies in the agony of his bereavement. Mr. Shaw’s sad Caesar says in his desolate pride, “He who has never hoped can never despair.” The Man-God of old answers from his awful hill, “Was ever sorrow like unto my sorrow?” A great man is not a man so strong that he feels less than other men; he is a man so strong that he feels more. And when Nietszche says, “A new commandment I give to you, `be hard,'” he is really saying, “A new commandment I give to you, `be dead.'” Sensibility is the definition of life. “
~GK Chesterton
“A great man is not a man so strong that he feels less than other men; he is a man so strong that he feels more.” I feel that in my desire to grow great, I have grown rather small…
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