elements in wonderful silences. At Mass with wonder the shining of the
Host. My eyes were veiled from the chalice, but I felt two angels
--guarding the acolytes. Again at the Credo the thunder of _Et Homo
factus est_. With Shelley in the afternoon and a perilous walk on the
cliffs. ... I am gaining in detachment. The desire and passion for
solitude grows and I meditate a winter on the islands. How unworthy I
am to partake of mysteries! They fill me with fear, for it is hard for
the body to live in eternity. In the evening with Gordon Craig. Is he
right about masks? A mask is a symbol, but a face may be a sacrament.
The Mass, after all, is the supreme dream and drama of the world.
Sadness is majesty, as I found the other night, and majesty is always
impenetrable, for it is a secret full of awe and mysterious silence.
Tonight I see that great drama, whether it be a tragedy or no, must
reveal time poised in infinity. Beauty, I think, contains everything
save the human will, and it is the ideal of the will to be thus
contained and of beauty to be the container. ... In the supreme drama
of Gethsemane and Calvary, Christ used the human body as the supreme
visible instrument of drama.


July 15.

... Tonight the fog broke through the sunset and scattered gold across
the sea. Clouds hung over the cliffs. ... I prayed through the sunset,
and won a victory for the will.


July 16.

Last night in the darkness I learned many things. The human will is