right interval, we gain power. When one interrupts another, we lose.
Weakness is merely the thrust of one impulse against another, instead of
their combined thrust against the world. When I came here, feeling like a
criminal, I was obeying the one right instinct in a welter of emotions. It
was like the faintest of heart beats in a sick body. I listened to that.
Then I learned physical hunger, then sleep, and so on. It's incredible how
stupid I was about the elemental art of living! I had to begin all over
from the beginning, as if no one had ever lived before.

THE BOY

That's what you meant in your poems about religion.

THE MAN

Exactly! I learned that "good" is the rhythm of the man's personal nature,
and that "evil" is merely the confusion of the same impulses. As time
went on it became instinctive to live for and by the rhythm. Everything
about my life here was caught up and used in the vision of power--drawing
water, cutting wood, digging in the garden, dawn. It was all marvelous--I
couldn't help writing those poems. They are the natural joys and sorrows
of ten years. As a matter of fact, though, I grew to care less and less
about writing, as living became fuller and richer. People write too much.
They would write less if they had to make the fire in the morning.

THE BOY

The first impulse ... I see. Oh, life might be so simple!

THE MAN