Life & Wisdom Quote by Rebecca West

West’s line flatters desire with the language of ethics, then pulls the rug out from under polite morality. Calling it “the soul’s duty” is a deliberate provocation: duty usually means restraint, service, and the dull heroism of saying no. West flips it. The imperative here isn’t to society, family, or even “virtue,” but to the private engine that actually drives a life. That inversion is the point: she’s insisting that self-betrayal is the real sin, not appetite.

The second sentence sharpens the blade. “Abandon itself” isn’t self-care; it’s surrender. “Master passion” doesn’t sound like a hobby or a preference; it’s feudal, possessive, borderline dangerous. West isn’t offering a Hallmark defense of following your heart. She’s naming how desire behaves when it’s honest: it rules. The soul, in her framing, becomes less a serene conscience than a territory constantly threatened by occupation. There’s a feminist charge in that, too. For women of West’s era, “loyalty” was socially coded as obedience to others: husband, child, reputation. She relocates loyalty inward, making the self the legitimate sovereign.

The subtext is a warning disguised as permission. If you accept that your deepest wanting is a “master,” you also accept its cost: it can devour comfort, stability, and the neat narrative of being “good.” West’s brilliance is that she doesn’t pretend otherwise. She makes desire sound like destiny, and that’s exactly how it often feels when a life is about to be remade.