Last Wave: April 29, 2015

And I have just finished with this very nib-full of ink, the last sentence of The Waves”  (WD 155)  
 Dairy, April 29, 1930 

 

 

'And in me too the wave rises.  It swells; it arches its back.  I am aware once more of a new desire, something rising beneath me like the proud horse whose rider first spurs and then pulls him back.  What enemy do we now perceive advancing against us, you whom I ride now, as we stand pawing this stretch of pavement?  It is death.  Death is the enemy.  It is death against whom I ride with my spear couched and my hair flying back like a young man's, like Percival's, when he galloped in India.  I strike spurs into my horse.  Against you I will fling myself, unvanquished and unyielding, O Death!'