Mary Olivier: A Life · Book V · Chapter XXXV · Chapter 35 12

Supposing there isn’t anything in it? Supposing⁠—Supposing⁠—

Last night I began thinking about it again. I stripped my soul; I opened all the windows and let my ice-cold thoughts in on the poor thing; it stood shivering between certainty and uncertainty.

I tried to doubt away this ultimate passion, and it turned my doubt into its own exquisite sting, the very thrill of the adventure.

Supposing there’s nothing in it, nothing at all?

That’s the risk you take.