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The departure of Alice inspired me to write the story of our love in a sonnet sequence. Each day 
was to immortalize its events in poetry. This again was one of my characteristically crude ideas, yet 
the result was surprisingly good --- much better, perhaps, than I ever thought, or think now. No less 
a critic than Marcel Schwob called it "a little masterpiece". And many other people of taste and 
judgment have professed themselves in love with it. Possibly the simplicity of its realism, its sincere 
and shame-free expression of every facet of my mind, constitute real merit. It is certainly true that 
most people find much of my work hard to read. The intensity of my passion, the profundity of my 
introspection, and my addiction to obscure allusions, demand the reader serious study, that he may 
grasp my meaning; and subsequent re-reading after my thought has been assimilated; until, no 
intellectual obstacle interrupting, he may be carried away by the current of my music and swept 
but it into the ocean of ecstasy which I myself reached when I wrote the poem. I am aware that few 
modern readers are capable of settling down deliberately to decipher me. And those who are may 
for that very reason be incapable of the orgiastic frenzy. Scholarship and passion rarely go together. 
But my muse is the daughter of Hermes and the mistress of Dionysus. 
I saw comparatively little of Japan. I did not understand the people at all and therefore did not like 
them very much. Their aristocracy was somehow at odds with mine. I resented their racial 
arrogance. I compared them unfavourably with the Chinese. Like the English, they possess the 
insular qualities and defects. They are not Asiatic, exactly as we are not European. 
My most interesting impression was Kamakura. The Daibutsu, colossal amid his gardens of iris, with 
no canopy but the sky, does really produce a sense of his universality; it does remind one of the 
grandeur and solidity of his teaching; of the reasonableness of his methods of attainment, the 
impersonal peace which is their reward; and of the boundless scope of his philosophy, independent 
as it is of all arbitrary assumptions, parochial points of view, sordid appeals and soul-stupefying 
superstitions. 
Already there had arisen in me the aspiration to attain to states whose very 
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1. On the America Manu. There were many ladies on board: the wife of a 
railway magnate, the consul's daughter, ad so on. In reality, they were all 
whores destined for various brothels in Japan or Shanghai, where 
American ladies fetch absurd prices.  
possibility I did not suspect; already I was aware, in the abyss of my heart, secret and silent, that I 
was Alastor, the wanderer in the wilderness, the Spirit of Solitude. For Kamakura, calmly certain of 
its soul-searching accents, called to me to abide in the security of its shadow, there to toil even as 
the Buddha had done, that I might come to the perfect Illumination, and thereby being made free 
from all the fetters of falsehood, being to mankind the Word of Wisdom and magic that hath might 
to enlighten their eyes, to heal their hearts, and to bring them to a stage of spiritual evolution such 
that their poets could not longer lament, as I: 
Nothing is stranger to men 
Than silence, and wisdom, and kindness. 
I inquired as to the possibility of settling down on one of the neighbouring monasteries; but 
somehow my instinct opposed my intention. The Inmost knew that my destiny lay elsewhere. The 
Lords of Initiation cared nothing for my poetic fancies and my romantic ideals. They had ordained 
that I should pass through every kind of hardship at the hands of nature, suffer all sorrow and shame 
that life can inflict. Their messenger must be tested by every ordeal --- not by those that he himself 
might choose. The boy who, asked to discuss some point of doctrine in the Epistles, replied, "Far be 
it from me to presume to parley with St. Paul: let me rather give a list of the kings of Israel and 
Judah!" (the only thing he knew), probably became a Cabinet minister; but similar adroitness does 
not avail the aspirant to adeptship. The Masters test every link in turn, infallibly and inexorably; it 
is up to you to temper your steel to stand the strain; for one flaw means failure and you have to 
forge it all afresh in the fires of fate, retrieve in a new incarnation the lost opportunity of the old.