I took a long drink of courage, and
I'm in better shape. Often when I get like that I've been tempted to take
a long drink of something else--but I never have. Whiskey's for men who
feel good; men who haven't much to fight. Not for me--not any such finish
as that.
"I'm making bad business of this letter. I wanted to tell things, tell
what light was and what darkness was; but I can't do it. Many things have
been circling around my thoughts and I thought I might get hold of a few
of them and pull them in. But I can't seem to do it. I never was much
good at writing things out; it's hard to get words for things that aren't
even full-born thoughts.
"My work was great, liebchen--great! A constant piercing of the darkness
with light--a letting in of more light--new light. I can understand now
why I loved it; where the joy was; what it was I was doing.
"Is life like that? Don't we understand things until we are out of them?
By Jove, is it true that we have to _get_ out of them, in order to
understand them? And if that's true, is it the understanding that's the
goal? Is it--oh, I don't know--I'm sure I don't know.
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