To live only to suffer-only to feel the injury of life repeated and enlarged-it seemed to her she was too valuable, too capable, for that. Then she wondered if it were vain and stupid to think so well of herself. When had it even been a guarantee to be valuable? Wasn't all history full of the destruction of precious things? Wasn't it much more probable that if one were fine one would suffer?
The protagonist grapples with the notion of suffering and her own self-worth. She feels that merely existing to endure pain and life’s injuries is beneath her capabilities. This reflection leads her to question whether her high regard for herself is misguided or vain, prompting deeper thoughts about value and existence.
Moreover, she contemplates the fragility of what is deemed valuable in history, recognizing that precious things often face destruction. This raises a painful realization—perhaps true worth is linked to suffering, leaving her to ponder the harsh reality that being exceptional might lead to greater misery.
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All the things you can talk about in anyone's work are the things that are least important.
Race of Cain, ascend to heaven, And cast God down upon the earth!
