ch is common, is to be distinguished
from the saintly by the fact that it consists in a weakness of will,
with a somewhat less marked weakness of intellect. A lower degree of
the knowledge of the world as revealed in ideas here suffices to check
and control a will that is weak in itself. Genius and sanctity are
far removed from good-nature, which is essentially weak in all its
manifestations.

Apart from all that I have said, so much at least is clear. What
appears under the forms of time, space, and casuality, and vanishes
again, and in reality is nothing, and reveals its nothingness by
death--this vicious and fatal appearance is the will. But what does
not appear, and is no phenomenon, but rather the noumenon; what
makes appearance possible; what is not subject to the principle of
causation, and therefore has no vain or vanishing existence, but
abides for ever unchanged in the midst of a world full of suffering,
like a ray of light in a storm,--free, therefore, from all pain and
fatality,--this, I say, is the intelligence. The man who is more
intelligence than will, is thereby delivered, in respect of the
greatest part of him, from nothingness and death; and such a man is in
his nature a genius.

By the very fact that he lives and works, the man who is endowed
with genius makes an entire sacrifice of himself in the interests
of everyone. Accordingly, he is free from the obligation to make a
particular sacrifice for individuals; and thus he can refuse many
demands which others are rightly required to meet. He suffers and
achieves more than all the others.

The spring which moves the genius to elaborate his works is not fame,
for that is too uncertain a quality, and when it is seen at close
quarters, of little worth. No amount of fame will make up for the
labour of attaining it:

_Nulla est fama tuum par oequiparare laborem_.

Nor is it the delight that a man has in his work; for that too is
outweighed by the effort which he has to make. It is, rather, an
instinct _sui generis_; in virtue of which the genius is driven to
express what he sees and feels in some permanent shape, without being
conscious of any further motive.

It is manifest that in so far as it leads an individual to sacrifice
himself for his species, and to live more in the species than in
himself, this impulse is possessed of a certain resemblance with
such modifications of the sexual impulse as are peculiar to man. The
modifications to which