[p. 76r][1461] through the dark thronging streets, his mouth full of curses. [1462] But the passenger, having named the place he wants to go and knowing himself as helpless to act on the course of events as the dark box that encloses him, abandons himself to the pleasant feeling of being freed from all responsibility, or he ponders on what lies before him, or on what lies behind him, saying, Twill not be ever thus, and then in the same breath, But twas ever thus, for there are not five hundred different kinds of passengers. [1463] And so they hasten, the horse, the driver and the passenger, towards the appointed place, by the shortest route or deviously, through the press of other misplaced persons. [1464] And each one has his reasons, while wondering from time to time what they are worth, and if they are the true ones, for going where he is going rather than somewhere else, and the horse hardly less darkly than the men, though as a rule it will not know where it is going until it gets there, and not always even then. [1465] And if as suggested it is dusk, then another phenomenon to be observed is the number of windows and shop-windows that light up an instant, almost after the fashion of the setting sun, though that all depends on the season. [1466] But for Macmann, thank God, he's still there, for Macmann it is a true Spring evening, an equinoctial gale howls along the quays bordered by high red houses many of which are warehouses. [1467] Or it is perhaps an evening in autumn and these leaves whirling in the air, whence it is impossible to say, for here there are no trees, are perhaps no longer the first of the year, barely green, but old leaves that have known the long joys of summer and now are good for nothing but to lie rotting in a heap, now that men and beasts
[p. 77r]
[1467] have no more need of shade, on the contrary, nor birds of nests to lay and hatch out in, and trees must blacken even where no heart beats, though it appears that some stay forever green[ ] 
, for some obscure reason.
[1468] And it is no doubt all the same to Macmann whether it is spring or whether it is autumn, unless he prefers summer to winter or inversely, which is improbable.
[1469] But it must not be thought he will never move again, out of this place and attitude, for he has still the whole of his old age before him, and then that kind of epilogue when it is not very clear what is happening and which does not seem to add very much to what has already been acquired or to shed any great light on its confusion, but which no doubt has its usefulness, as hay is left out to dry before being garnered.
[1470] He will therefore rise, whether he likes it or not, and proceed by other places to another place, and then by others still to yet another, unless he comes back here where he seems to be snug enough, but one never knows, does one? And so on, on, for long years.
[1471] Because in order not to die you must come and go, come and go, unless you happen to have someone who brings you food wherever you happen to be, like myself.
[1472] And you can remain for two, three and even four days without stirring hand or foot, but what are four days when you have all old age before you, and then the lingers of evaporation, a drop in the ocean.
[1473] It is true you know nothing of this, you flatter yourself you are hanging by a thread like all mankind, but that is not the point.
[1474] For there is no point, no point in not knowing this or that, either you know all or you know nothing, and Macmann knows nothing.
[p. 78r][1474] But he is concerned only with his ignorance of certain things, of those that appall him among others, which is only human. [1475] But it is bad policy, for on the fifth day rise you must, and rise in fact you do, but with how much greater pains than if you had made up your mind to it the day before, or better still two days before, and why add to[₰]your pains, it's bad policy, assuming you do add to them, and nothing is less certain. [1476] For on the fifth day, when the problem is how to rise, the fourth and third do not matter any more, all that matters is how to rise, for you are half out of your mind. [1477] And sometimes you cannot, get to your feet I mean, and have to drag yourself to the nearest plot of vegetables, using the tufts of grass and asperities of the earth to drag yourself forward, or to the nearest clump of brambles, where there are sometimes good things to eat, if acid, and which are superior to the plots in this, that you can crawl into them and hide, as you cannot in a plot of ripe potatoes for example, and in this also, that often you frighten the little wild things away, both furred and feathered. [1478] For it is not as if he possessed the means of accumulating, in a single day, enough food to keep him alive for three weeks or a month, and what is a month compared to the whole of second childishness, a drop in a bucket. [1479] But he does not, possess them I mean, and could not employ them even if he did, he feels so far from the morrow. [1480] And perhaps there is none, no morrow any more, for one who has waited so long for it in vain. [1481] And perhaps he has come to that stage of his instant when to live
[p. 79r][1481] is to wander the last of the living in the depths of an instant without bounds, where the light never changes and the wrecks look all alike. [1482] Bluer scarcely than white of egg the eyes stare into the space before them, namely the fulness of the great deep and its unchanging calm. [1483] But at long intervals they close, with the gentle suddenness of flesh that tightens, often without anger, and closes on itself. [1484] Then you see the old lids all red and worn that seem hard set to meet, for there are four, two for each lachrymal. [1485] And perhaps it is then he sees the heaven of the old dream, the heaven of the sea and of the earth too, and the spasms of the waves from shore to shore all stirring to their tiniest stir, and the so different motion of men for example, who are not tied together, but free to come and go as they please. [1486] And they make full use of it and come and go, their great balls and sockets rattling and clacking like knackers, each on his way. [1487] And when one dies the others go on, as if nothing had happened.
[1488] I feel
[1489] I feel it's coming. [1490] How goes it, thanks, it's coming. [1491] I wanted to be quite sure before I noted it. [1492] Scrupulous to the last, finical to a fault, that's Malone, all over. [1493] I mean sure of feeling that my hour is at hand. For I never doubted it would come, sooner or later, except the days I felt it was past. [1494] For my stories are all in vain, deep down I never doubted, even the days
[p. 80r]
[1494] abounding in proof to the contrary, that I was still alive and breathing in and out the air of earth.
[1495] At hand, that is in two or three days, in the language of the days when they taught me the names of the days and I marvelled at their being so few and flourished my little fists, crying out for more, and how to tell the time, and what are two or three days, more or less, in the long run, a joke.
[1496] But not a word and on with the losing game, it's good for the health. And all I have to do is go on[⁁] as though doomed to see the midsummer moon. For I believe I have now reached what is called the month of May, I don't know why, I mean why I believe that, for May comes from Maia, hell, I remember that too, goddess of increase and plenty, yes, I believe I have entered on the season of increase and plenty, of increase at last, for plenty comes later, with the harvest.
[1497] So quiet, quiet, I'll be still here at All Saints, in the middle of the crysanthemums, no, this year I shall not hear them howling over their charnels.
[1498] But this sensation of dilation is hard to resist.
[1499] All strains towards the nearest deeps, and notably my feet, which even in the ordinary way are so much further from me than all the rest, from my head I mean, for that is where I am fled, my feet are leagues away. And to call them in, to be cleaned for example, would I think take me over a month, exclusive of the time required to locate them.
[1500] Strange, I don't feel my feet any more, my feet feel nothing any more, and a mercy it is. And yet[⁁] I feel they are beyond the rage of the most powerful telescope.
[1501] Is that what is known as having a foot in the grave?
[1502] And similarly for the rest. For a mere local phenomenon is something I would not have