A vapor, heavy, hueless, formless, cold!
Leave it to time! Leave it to time!
—I hear that, and I hear around me the laughter of mocking demons. It startles my soul—but no longer to rage as it used to. I sit and stare at it with a great, heavy numbness possessing me.
January 12th.
I am still reading Nietzsche. I think I shall read all that he has written. I am always kept aware of the limitations, but he is a tremendous man. Can you guess how this took hold of me?—
THE GRAVE-SONG
“There lies the island of graves, the silent; there are also the graves of my youth. Thither will I carry an evergreen wreath of life.”
Thus resolving in my heart, I went over the sea.—