He said, ‘It depends what you mean by an object — ’ ‘All because you’ve realised you’ll never be a great thinker, I suppose hurt vanity makes people do daft things. Or perhaps it’s not so daft. You’ve chosen the higher hedonism, you’ll be the false good man, I’ve met a few, they’re a secret brotherhood. Giving up the world, holy poverty, except that somehow or other all the material goods are provided, living on their rich friends — Damn it, I’m supporting you now, and that’s just a start. And it works, people regard them as superior, defer to them, run to them, look after them, spoil them, they’re gentlemen of course — while they trip round with saintly smiles and lofty words and unctuous advice, enjoying everybody’s troubles, living at ease, having the hell of a good time, admired and loved, oh so high above us ordinary sinners. I tell you they enjoy life, that’s what they’ve aimed at, they have an object all right, cherishing themselves, and they’re intelligent too.
