This consideration, closely affecting his own identity, filled his breast with a mournful and angry desire for action.
In this his instinct was unerring.

Action is consolatory.

It is the enemy of thought and the friend of flattering illusions.

Only in the conduct of our action can we find the sense of mastery over the Fates.
For his action, the mine was obviously the only field.

It was imperative sometimes to know how to disobey the solemn wishes of the dead.
He resolved firmly to make his disobedience as thorough (by way of atonement) as it well could be.