—a passage in Vergil tells of a Mist that is all over and about this world from the human 'tears that are falling, falling, falling always.' Something, and it may be that Mist, makes one's view of everything—everything in life—a little blurred. It may even blur one's view of oneself. So it may be I do not see myself with entire clearness—
I only know I write me as clearly as I see me, considering the Mist.
