Either woe orwell-being, sometimesI have a craving to be engulfed.This morning ( inthe country), the weather is mild, overcast. I am suffering (from someincident). The notion of suicideoccurs to me,pure of any resentment(not blackmailing anyone); an insipid notion; it alters nothing (" breaks" nothing ) , matches thecolor (the silence. the desolation) ofthis morning. Another day, in therain, we'rewaiting for the boat at the lake; from happiness, this time,the same outburst of annihilation sweeps through me. This is howit happens sometimes, misery or joyengulfs me, without any particular tumult ensuing: nor anypathos: Iam dissolved, not dismembered; Ifall, I flow, Imelt. Such thoughts-grazed, touched, tested(the way you test the water with your foot)--can recur. Nothing solemnabout them. This is exactlywhatgentlenessis.