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12/18/41 NY I could not write about the past 11 days. Someday, perhaps, I may recognize the elements of terror of the past 11 days. The pain of the defeat [[strikethrough]] and [[/strikethrough]] and loss of faith. The subsequent loneliness of [[strikethrough]] the [[/strikethrough]] self. It was a great storm. It battered & killed my belief in society, and left me with nothing else but my self. At first, even up to yesterday, I saw myself also battered & killed,[[strikethrough]] and I [[/strikethrough]]. But [[strikethrough]] tonight [[/strikethrough]] I began to read - [[strikethrough]] about [[/strikethrough]] DH Lawrence, & Jeffers and Wolfe. [[strikethrough]] also [[/strikethrough]], Danz, & about Picasso & Miro and Aiken [[strikethrough]] I il[[/strikethrough]] Hart Crane, and I read also my "Inter-Island" and I know now, tonight, that if I can only live always in that world in which I [[strikethrough]] am spa [[/strikethrough]] talk to Crane and Aiken [[end page]] [[start page] (Time in the Rock), nothing, nothing in the other world can crush [[strikethrough]] toy str [[/strikethrough]] me nor destroy me. I knew this a long time ago - on Kauai - (I wrote in 1937 what Danz has just written.) And now, now is the greatest test of the strength of my philosophy. And as I read Crane's Voyages and Aiken's Preludes, as I look at my paintings and some my poems, I know that somehow, wherever I go, or whatever happens in the warring society, I [[strikethrough]] am [[/strikethrough]] shall be safe, for my world is another world, and true!