MS-HRC-SB-4-3

[1307] the lovers, so that in my innocence I say they cease, whereas
in reality they never cease. [1308] It is difficult to decide. [1309] And in
the skull is it a vacuum^? [1310] I ask. [1311] And if I close my eyes, close
them really, as others cannot, but as I can, for there are
limits to my impotence, then sometimes my be^d is caught up into
the air and tossed like a straw by the whirling eddies, and I
in it.

[1312] Fortunately it is not so much an affair of eyelids, but
as it were the soul that must be veiled, that soul denied in
vain, vigilant, anxious, turning in its cage as in a lantern, in
the night without haven or craft or matter or understanding.
[1313] Ah yes, I have my little pastⁱmes and they should

[1314] What a misfortune, the pencil must have slipped from my
fingers, for I have only just succeeded in recovering it after
fourty-eight hours ( see above) of intermittent efforts. [1315] What my
stick lacks is a little prehensile proboscis like the nocturnal
tapir's. [1316] I should really lose my pencil more often, it might
do me good, I might be more cheerful, it might be more cheerful.

[1317] I have spent two unforgettable days of which nothing will ever be
known, it is too late now, or still too soon, I forget which,
except that they have brought me the solution and conclusion of
the whole sorry business, I mean the business of Malone (since
that is what I am called now) and of the other, for the rest is
no business of mine. [1318] And it was, though more unutterable, like
the crumbling away of two little heaps of finest sand, or dust,
or ashes, of unequal size, but diminishing together as it were