January 12, 1959
Death of Susanna Socca.
I am not sorrowful, but I am tired
Of everything that I ever desired.
How many times, great Gods, have I repeated these words of Dowson to myself! My life is filled with them.
The pleasure of the unfinished, even better: of the un-started, of non-beginning.
I come back to the Vedas, to the Upanishads, time after time. Every year, I have access to Indianity.
When Spanish leaves the sublime, it becomes ridiculous.
Every Hindu philosophy comes down to the horror, not of death, but of birth.
The only profound experience that I have had in my life is boredom. On earth there is for me neither “occupation” nor “diversion” to tell the truth. I have even gone beyond the void: that is why it is impossible for me to kill myself.