
[1144] my appetite.
[1145] My appetite!
[1146] What a subject. For conversation.
[1148] I had
hardly any. I ate like a thrush. But the little I did eat I devoured
with a voracity usually attributed to heavy eaters, and wrongly, for
heqavy eaters as a rule eat ponderously and with method, that follows
from the very notion of heavy eater [⁁]eating.
[1149] Whereas I flung myself at the
Eintopf [⁁]mess, swallowed [⁁]gulped down the half or the quarter of it in two mouthfuls worthy without chewing (with what would I have chewed?),
of a fish of prey, I mean
then pushed it from me with loathing.
[1150] One would have thought I ate to
live!
[1151] Similarly I would engulf five or six Imperial pints of porter [⁁]mugs of beer with
one gulp swig, then drink nothing for a week.
[1152] What do you expect, one is what
one is, partly at least.
[1153] Nothing or little to be done.
[1154] Now as to the
substances she insinuated thus into my various systems, I could not say
whether they were stimulants or whether they were not rather depressants.
[1155] The truth is, kinaesthetically [⁁]coenaesthetically speaking of course, I felt more or less
the same as usual, viz — betrayal! — [⁁]that is to say, if I may give myself away, so terror-stricken that in a [⁁]I was virtually bereft of feeling, not to say of consciousness, and drowned
sense I lost the power
in a deep and merciful torpor shot with brief abominable gleams, I give
you my word.
[1156] Against such harmony of what avail the miserable molys of
Lousse, administered in infinitesimal doses probably, to draw the pleasure
out.
[1157] Not that they remained entirely without effcect, no, that woudld be
an exaggeration.
[1158] For from time to time I caught myself making a little
lep [⁁]bound in the air, two or three feet off the ground at least, at least, I
who never leaped [⁁]bounded.
[1159] It looked like levitation.
[1160] And it happened too, what less surprising[⁁]ly, when I was walking, or even propped up against
was
something, that I suddenly collapsed, like a puppet when its strings are
dropped, and lay long where I fell, literally boneless.
- Segments
Molloy © 2016 Samuel Beckett Digital Manuscript Project.
Editors: Magessa O'Reilly, Dirk Van Hulle, Pim Verhulst and Vincent Neyt