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349
The Journal of a Disappointed Man
·
W. N. P. Barbellion
254
And
so
on
and
so
on.
Words,
idle
words
all
day
in
a
continuous
rush.
And
I
am
sure
that
the
match
which
fired
the
gun-powder
was
the
discovery
of
the
De
Goncourts'
Journal!
It's
extraordinary
how
I
have
been
going
on
from
week
to
week
quite
calmly
for
all
the
world
as
if
I
had
read
all
the
books
and
seen
all
the
places
and
done
everything
according
to
the
heart's
desire.
This
book
has
really
jolted
me
out
of
my
complacency:
to
think
that
all
this
time,
I
have
been
dead
to
so
much!
Why
I
might
have
died
unconscious
that
the
De
Goncourts
had
ever
lived
and
written
their
colossal
book
and
now
I
am
aware
of
it,
I
am
all
in
a
fever
to
read
it
and
take
it
up
into
my
brain:
I
might
die
now
before
I
have
finished
it--a
thought
that
makes
me
wild
with
desire
just
as
I
once
endured
most
awful
pangs
when
I
felt
my
health
going,
and
believed
that
I
might
die
before
having
ever
been
in
love--to
die
and
never
to
have
been
in
love!
--for
an
instant
at
a
time
this
possibility
used
to
make
me
writhe.
March
22.
R----
has
an
unpleasant
habit
of
making
some
scarifying
announcement
drawing
forth
an
explosive
query
from
me
and
then
lapsing
at
once
into
an
eleusinian
silence:
he
appears
to
take
a
sensuous
pleasure
in
the
pause
that
keeps
you
expectant.
I
could
forgive
a
man
who
keeps
you
on
tenterhooks
for
two
puffs
in
order
to
keep
his
pipe
alight,
but
R----
shuts
up
out
of
sheer
self-indulgence
and
goes
on
gazing
at
the
horizon
with
the
eyes
of
a
seer
(he
thinks)
trying
to
cod
me
he
sees
a
portent
there
only
revealed
to
God's
elect.
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