December 16, 1959
French moralists, it is Manichaeism by anecdote
or: anecdotal Manichaeism
or: at the “socialite” level.
Divinity of Prose.
The farther I go, the less verse touches me. Melodie dried up, soul obstructed.
One always has someone above one; even beyond God looms Nothingness.
What is that Visigoth king who, in the sixth century, wrote a commentary on the Apocalypse? The manuscript has been published, by whom and when? Vague memory of a card hastily read in I don’t know which library.
Before each insult, we oscillate between the slap and the coup de grâce; and this oscillation, which makes us lose precious time, sanctions our cowardice.
The Anatomy of Melancholy by Robert Burton. The most beautiful title one could ever find. What does it matter that the book is unreadable?
Every man who has a conviction, whatever it may be, has a god; what am I saying, he believes in God. For all conviction postulates the absolute or stands in for it.
One doesn’t demand liberty, but the illusion of liberty. It is for this illusion that humanity struggles for millenia.
Besides, liberty being, as it is said, a sensation, what difference is there between being free and believing to be free?
A book to read: Tratado de Tribulación by Father Ribadeneira, a contemporary of Saint Theresa.