But I'm talking of things I can't expect the reader to understand,
because I don't half understand them myself. There is something links
things for me, a sunset or so, a mood or so, the high air, something
there was in Marion's form and colour, something I find and lose in
Mantegna's pictures, something in the lines of these boats I make. (You
should see X2, my last and best!)
I can't explain myself, I perceive. Perhaps it all comes to this, that
I am a hard and morally limited cad with a mind beyond my merits.
Naturally I resist that as a complete solution. Anyhow, I had a sense of
inexorable need, of distress and insufficiency that was unendurable, and
for a time this aeronautical engineering allayed it....
In the end of this particular crisis of which I tell so badly, I
idealised Science. I decided that in power and knowledge lay the
salvation of my life, the secret that would fill my need; that to these
things I would give myself.
I emerged at last like a man who has been diving in darkness, clutching
at a new resolve for which he had groped desperately and long.
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