Short Cuts To Love
In uncertainty I am certain that underneath their topmost layers of frailty men want to be good and want to be loved. Indeed, most of their vices are attempted short cuts to love. When a man comes to die, no matter what his talents and influence and genius, if he dies unloved his life must be a failure to him and his dying a cold horror.
– John Steinbeck, East of Eden
This is hope in spite of tragedy, and gleaming with the truth of the matter instead of some dismissive shrugging off of the perplexing state of man. This rings with contradiction, that of which life is made. Its often in life’s unreasonability that it finally makes sense. Not the sense we’d expected or, on some days, hoped for, but I suppose we should take whatever sense we can get from it.
Secondarily, I’ve noticed the extra meaning within the term “short cuts”. Who knows if it was intended this way or if it was the proper grammar with which Steinbeck wrote, but the extra jab is just too much to leave out. What cuts and destroys our ability to love more than the falsehoods we chase in Love’s absence?