ONE of the remarkable points about my life is that it is so completely, hopelessly alone—a lonely, lonely life. This book of mine contains but one character—myself.
There is also the Devil—as a possibility.
And there is also the anemone lady—my dearest beloved—as a memory.
I have read books that were written to portray but one character, and there were various people brought in to help in the portraying. But my one friend is gone, and there is no person who enters into my inner life in the very least. I am always alone. I might mingle with people intimately every hour of my life—still I should be alone.
Always alone—alone.
Not even a God to worship.
How do I bear this? How do I get through the days and days?
And, oh, when it all comes over me, what frightful rage—what long agony of my breaking heart—what utter woe!
When the stars shine down upon me with cold hatred; when miles and miles of barrenness stretch out around me and envelop me in their weary, weary Nothingness; when the wind blows over me like the breath of a vicious giant; when the ugly, ugly sun radiates centuries of hard, heavy bitterness around me from its stinging rays; when the sky maddens me with its cold, careless blue; when the rivers that are flowing over the earth send echoes to me of their hateful voices; when I hear wild geese honking in bitter wailing melody; when bristling edges of jagged rocks cut sharply into my tired life; when drops of rain fall on me and pierce me like steel points; when the voices in the air shriek little-minded malice in my ears; when the green of Nature is the green of spitefulness and cruelty; when the red, red of the setting sun burns and consumes me with its horrid feverish effervescence; when I feel the all-hatred of the Universe for its poor little earth-bugs: then it is that I approach nearest to Rest.
The softnesses are my Unrest.
I do not want those bitter things.
But I must have them if I would rest.
I want the softnesses and I want Rest!
Oh, dear faint soul, it is hard—hard for us.
We are sick with loneliness.