if the carnival should pass
while I, suspended under glass,
can neither hear the song nor drum
and all of life reduced to hum
is nothing that it seems
then will I hear the voice of god
muffled, when it bids me come
or will all truth be rendered dumb
and I be nothing but my mass
dissolving mineral and gas,
sweet strawberries and cream...
"This journal is not a mere literary diversion. The further I progress, reducing to order what my past life suggests, and the more I persist in the rigor of composition--of the chapters, of the sentences, of the book itself--the more do I feel myself hardening in my will to utilize, for virtuous ends, my former hardships. I feel their power." --Jean Genet
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