A Task (n.) comes into the world by first ruling as a secret force and an unconscious pregnancy long before one has caught sight of the task itself or knows its name.
The Task (n.) that is one's own is a tyrant in us that takes terrible retribution for every evasion — even every virtue that would shield us from our own responsibility.
The Task (n.) given back to us is the greatest of life's gifts, the reward for a tough will to live and for the long war against the pessimism of weariness with life.
A Task (n.) unusual and difficult enough to command going on living also commands the avoidance of people and binding oneself to no one any more.
A Task (n.) of this kind has made for sickness, and it will make for health again, and not only health but a greater affability.
A Task (n.) is the concealed tyrant in us that takes terrible retribution for every attempt to evade it — illness is the answer every time we doubt our right to it.
Task (n.) chooses us before we understand it: the rejection of the most agreeable and revered breaks out of us like caprice, and is the higher reason of our future task.