John St. John

7.50. 8.45. 8.53. 84 THE EQUINOX And the Visconti may turn up! . . . Eli, Eli, lama. sabacthani l Ι went out to the Dome to drink my final citron pressé and to avoid the Visconti. Am returned, and in bed. I shall try and sleep now, waking in time for midnight and the quiet hours. I have endured the supreme temptation and assault of the Enemy. In this wise. First, I found that I did not want sleep—I couldn’t stop “Waiting." Next, I said ”Since last night that Black Ritual (see entry 10.55) did at least serve to turn all my thoughts to the One Thought, I will try it again . . .“ Then I said: “No; to do so is not pure ‘waiting.’ ” And then—as by a flash of lightning—the Abyss of the Pit opened, and my whole position was turned. I saw my life from the dawn of consciousness till now as a gigantic “ pose ” ; my very love of truth assumed for the benefit of my biographer I All these strange things suffered and enjoyed for no better purpose than to seem a great man. One cannot express the horror of this thought; it is The thought that murders the soul—and there is no answer to it. So universal is it that it is impossible to prove the contrary. So one must play the man, and master it and kill it utterly, burying it in that putrid hell from which it sprang. Luckily I have dealt with it before, Once when I lived at Paddington J—s and F—r were with me talking, and, when they went, thoughtfully left this devil-thought behind—the agony is with me yet.