The Limit of the Function
Easter
To Cross Out Everything
I am like a motor set in motion at a speed of too many revolutions per second； the bearings have become too hot， and in one more minute the molten metal will begin to drip and everything will go to the devil. Cold water！ Quick！ Some logic！ I pour on pailfuls of it， but my logic merely sizzles on the hot metal and disappears into the air in the form of vapor.
Of course it is clear that in order to establish the true meaning of a function one must establish its limit. It is also clear that yesterday"s "dissolution in the universe" taken to its limit is death. For death is exactly the most complete dissolution of the self in the universe. Hence： L=f （D）， love is the function of death.
Yes， exactly， exactly！ That is why I am afraid of I-330； I struggle against her， I don"t want...But why is it that within me "I don"t want to" and "I want to" stand side by side？ That is the chief horror of the matter； I continue to long for that happy death of yesterday. The horror of it is that even now， when I have integrated the logical function， when it becomes evident that that function contains death hidden within it， still I long for it with my lips， my arms， my heart， with every millimeter....
Tomorrow is the Day of Unanimity. She will certainly be there and I shall see her， though from a distance. That distance will be painful to me， for I must be， I am inevitably drawn， close to her， so that her hands， her shoulder， her hair...I long for even that pain....Let it come....Great Well-Doer！ How absurd to desire pain！ Who is ignorant of the simple fact that pains are negative items that reduce that sum total we call happiness？ Consequently...Well， no "consequently"...Emptiness....Nakedness！
The Same Evening
Through the glass wall of the house I see a disquieting， windy， feverishly pink sunset. I move my armchair to avoid that pinkness and turn over these pages， and I find I am forgetting that I write this not for myself but for you unknown people whom I love and pity， for you who still lag centuries behind， below. Let me tell you about the Day of Unanimity， about that Great Day. I think it is for us what Easter was for the ancients. I remember I used to prepare an hour calendar on the eve of that day； solemnly I would cross out every time the figure of the hour elapsed： nearer by one hour！ one hour less to wait！...If I were certain that nobody would discover it， I assure you I should now， too， make out such a calendar and carry it with me； and I should watch how many hours remain until tomorrow....When I shall see， at least from a distance...
（I was interrupted. They brought me a new unif from the shop. As is customary， new unifs are given to us for tomorrow"s celebration. Steps in the hail， exclamations of joy， noises.）
