7.50.
8.45.
8.53.
84
THE EQUINOX
And the Visconti may turn up! .
.
.
Eli, Eli, lama. sabacthani
l
Ι went out to the Dome to drink my final citron pressé
and to avoid the Visconti.
Am returned, and in bed.
I shall try and sleep now, waking in time for midnight
and the quiet hours.
I have endured the supreme temptation and assault of
the Enemy.
In this wise.
First, I found that I did
not want sleep—I couldn’t stop “Waiting."
Next, I
said ”Since last night that Black Ritual (see entry
10.55) did at least serve to turn all my thoughts to the
One Thought, I will try it again .
. .“
Then I said: “No; to do so is not pure ‘waiting.’ ”
And then—as by a flash of lightning—the Abyss of
the Pit opened, and my whole position was turned.
I
saw my life from the dawn of consciousness till now as
a gigantic “ pose ” ; my very love of truth assumed for
the benefit of my biographer
I
All these strange things
suffered and enjoyed for no better purpose than to
seem a great man.
One cannot express the horror of
this thought; it is The thought that murders the
soul—and there is no answer to it.
So universal is it
that it is impossible to prove the contrary.
So one
must play the man, and master it and kill it utterly,
burying it in that putrid hell from which it sprang.
Luckily I have dealt with it before,
Once when I
lived at Paddington J—s and F—r were with me
talking, and, when they went, thoughtfully left this
devil-thought behind—the
agony
is with
me yet.