Man has a certain degree of energy given to him. Such and such a man
or woman stands to another as ten is to thirty, as one to five; and
there is a certain degree of energy which no one of us ever exceeds.
The quantity of energy, or willpower, which each of us possesses
diffuses itself like sound; it is sometimes weak, sometimes strong; it
modifies itself according to the octaves to which it mounts. This
force is unique, and although it may be dissipated in desire, in
passion, in toils of intellect or in bodily exertion, it turns towards
the object to which man directs it. A boxer expends it in blows of the
fist, the baker in kneading his bread, the poet in the enthusiasm
which consumes and demands an enormous quantity of it; it passes to
the feet of the dancer; in fact, every one diffuses it at will, and
may I see the Minotaur tranquilly seated this very evening upon my
bed, if you do not know as well as I do how he expends it. Almost all
men spend in necessary toils, or in the anguish of direful passions,
this fine sum of energy and of will, with which nature has endowed
them; but our honest women are all the prey to the caprices and the
struggles of this power which knows not what to do with itself.
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