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Yesterday (Wednesday) was such a fine day, weather-wise I mean! . . . I
decided to live a secluded life. I worked like mad, contemptuous of
the sun and the glorious breeze outside. I wrote articles on Baumaker,
Bauer, and Baur; I perfected articles on Bernhard Bolzano (B.B.),
Roger Josef Boscovich and Beatitude. I considered, but later dismissed,
Bain, Bayle, and Bohm. I am literally B-sick, and I am craving for
C and D, but I still have a long way. [Bryn Mawr, April, 1961]
I went back home [Friday] with the purpose of writing some beautiful
lines on the controversial concept Ens. I did write such lines, but
they were not beautiful. I therefore started writing on Space (Espacio);
Malebranche, Locke and Leibniz gave me opportunities to display my
talents for synthesis. At 12:30 A.M. (Saturday), Ens and Space had
been completed, and it was time to take a nap—a long one.
I have been working for an article on Enthusiasm (completed). You
know, the Ion, Plotinus, Marsilio Ficino, Shaftesbury, and
all that jazz. Most disappointing. I decided to wrap letters A, B,
C (including Ch), and D in four huge packages and send them to the
publisher. Leafing through was a painful experience. I detected errors,
vague sentences, misprints, mistypings galore. Strong temptation to
check and double check everything again. Temptation dismissed; lack
of guts. I'll be more careful beginning with letter 'E' and will recommend
readers in a brand new Preface to skip A through D (inclusive).
In a state of profound sadness for my failure as a scholar, I decided
to lie down and read bits of Heidegger, (Holzwege), bits of
Monsieur Weber (La psychologie de l' art). Bits of A. Castro
(De la edad conflictiva), bits of Bochenski (History of
Logic), bits of Bruno Nardi (Saggi sull'aristotelismo padovan),
bits of Kleiber (Logoslehre): bits, bits, bits.
Tired. Lack of energy. Shifted to lighter reading. Learned something
about the $41,000,000 Federal program for Inter-State highways. Listened
to music (Bach, Scarlatti, Connie Francis). [Oct. 10, 1961]
I am expanding my article on Space (Espacio): I hate it. I am going
to write a new article on Emotivism (An ethical theory thus
called). [Bryn Mawr, Oct. 27, 1961]
I finished Space (Espacio), Hope (Esperanza), and have started revising
and rewriting “Experience” and
“Expression.” I want to get through
the E as quickly as possible; unfortunately, after the E comes the
F, and after that a few letters more until I reach the most desired
Z, and remain free for more substantial undertakings. When the great
moment will come, I am at a loss to say. I am sick of it.
[Bryn Mawr, Nov. 6, 1961]
I exhausted myself trying to find a way in a maze of
thoughts. I feel so disappointed
I did not succeed! I feel particularly disappointed, especially as
I had tried to do something really good. . . . I am a failure.
So I devoted the entire evening to bibliography, which is a soothing
science, and one in which brains play a rather modest role.
Perhaps my so-called “intellectual vocation” is bibliographical.
Perhaps I have no intellectual vocation. Perhaps I should not care
whether I have one or not.[Bryn Mawr, Nov. 17, 1961]
I wrote
four or five cute little articles for my Dictionary, and have started
writing a rather longish one.
[Bryn Mawr, Dec. 2, 1961]
I even found the dinner party with the historians relatively exhilarating.
I almost succeeded in convincing said historians that history writing
is a hopeless undertaking. I can no longer remember the reasons I
forged to that effect, but when produced they seemed rather overwhelming.
I went to bed rather late, with full confidence in my intellectual
powers temporarily restored.
The word 'temporarily' has a meaning. My confidence has not lasted
long. The slight cold I caught a week ago has not cleared up entirely,
and as a consequence my head has been intermittently clogged. Worst
of all, I have not done any work worth mentioning. Lassitude and languor
have contributed to the most shameful laziness. I started writing
a brief article on the philosophy of Fink (Eugen), and had to give
it up; it was unreadable. I vaguely read. I had dinner with J and
almost got stuck on the way back in snowy roads filled with stalled
vehicles. Skill (and chance) saved me from some long wait in a wintry
night.
I will have to organize the Christmas vacation to push my work a
little bit. Unfortunately, errands and learned papers will possibly
kill half of my drive. I wish I could start writing something really
good. [Bryn Mawr, Dec. 10, 1961]
This afternoon (Sunday) I went to the lib. to work; I have
almost completed 'F' but as I was reading through the thick pile I
detected a number of mistaken and/or insufficient references. (I had
quoted Thomas Aquinas' Summa II-IIa on Faith, but was not sure
whether it was Quaestio 4: entries on “Physicalism” (Fisicalismo)
looked fishy, and highly improbable; the works in
Portuguese of Farias
Brito had no diacritical signs, and I have no Portuguese Dictionary
at hand; Pedro de Fonseca was born in Cortizada or in Proenca-a-Nova,
and I had to decide where; Fechner was born in Muskau, Niederlausitz
or in Gross-Saerchen, Niederlausitz [the correct answer is:
“Gross Sarchen bei Muskau, Niederlaustiz,” according to the Schweizerische
Enzyklopadie], and so on and so on).
Besides working on the 'F' I have been reading, and grading, term
papers, so to avoid having some 60 or 65 of them after classes. I'll
return a first batch of 16 tomorrow, and wait for more. I now realize
that I have to do something for my Syracuse lecture, as well as for
the Heidegger Sem. [Bryn Mawr, nd]
Too bad I did not write this letter before, when I was inspired,
or at any rate not plunged into a deplorable state of brutishness
caused (no doubt) by hard, uninterrupted, almost frantic work. Saturday
morning I decided to get rid of the 'G' with its various new articles:
Gaunilo, Geiger, Gemelli, Genio, Gottingen (Escuela de), Grado, Guastella—and what not—and painstaking modifications and/or enlargements
of old articles: Godel (Prueba de), Gorgias, Gusto plus innumerable
corrections. Well, I worked steadily for some fourteen hours, with
only brief and/or hurried stops. Then, this Sunday I have been doing
much the same, so now I am steadily and gloriously heading toward
the 'H,' which is coming nearer and nearer, with its splendors: Hegel,
Heidegger, Husserl—its minutiae: Haberlin, Hobhouse—and
its perplexities: Hecho, Humanismo, Hipostasis. It's a maddening thing.
Will I ever finish? . . . I begin to doubt. [Bryn Mawr, nd]
I tried to write an article on Nexus, but I discovered that it
would be scarcely publishable. There is so much to say about that
thing. I will confine myself modestly to an article on Non-Ego, which
is something that seems to exist less and less, egos having taken the
upper hand. [Bryn Mawr, nd]
I started working, but have not succeeded in doing much,
just preparing lectures,
and writing letters, and expanding bibliographies, but nothing really
serious so I am disappointed and begin to think that I am good for
nothing, but I don't believe it at the same time.
I (why should I begin this letter, I mean each paragraph of this
letter, with 'I'; do I look obnoxious?) am slightly worried by my
future work. There seems to be little opportunity for working out
the unwritten parts of my philosophical system. This Dictionary kills
me; it really does.
I have written an infinite number of articles on concepts and philosophers
nobody (including myself) could care less about. All this is for the
sake of completeness, to be sure. [Bryn Mawr, nd]
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