More and more a silence came over him, he was less
and less acutely aware of his surroundings. The pain seemed to absorb
his activity. He knew it was there, he knew it would come again. It was
like something lurking in the darkness within him. And he had not the
power, or the will, to seek it out and to know it. There it remained in
the darkness, the great pain, tearing him at times, and then being
silent. And when it tore him he crouched in silent subjection under it,
and when it left him alone again, he refused to know of it. It was
within the darkness, let it remain unknown. So he never admitted it,
except in a secret corner of himself, where all his never-revealed
fears and secrets were accumulated. For the rest, he had a pain, it
went away, it made no difference. It even stimulated him, excited him.
But it gradually absorbed his life. Gradually it drew away all his
potentiality, it bled him into the dark, it weaned him of life and drew
him away into the darkness. And in this twilight of his life little
remained visible to him.
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