[...] Tomorrow I shall stand in front of the Dom, which is one of the world's tallest churches -- there's another taller in France or somewhere, I believe ... then go inside to stare up at the prodigious vaulted ceiling. What on earth did man have
in mind to construct such a building? It has no utility except an esthetic one. It is not a hotel that lodges people. Men died in its conception. That is a fact. Each workman took pride in each block of granite he set. This idea pleases me; a concept our modern day workman has quite lost. Yes, tomorrow I shall look at this church, take a train to Koblentz and ride the ferry down the Rhine past
the old castles that used to guard the river; then on to Munchen. Perhaps I shall even have a glass of wine or so, a whole bottle, get drunk and forget the entire thing; visit Hans, go to concerts, beer halls, etc [...]

I certainly could never buy a gun in Germany, although I might have my friend professor Hans Kerlacher purchase one for me. Hans is suspicious. He has the German mind. He'd want a dossier on what I was going to use the gun for. Moreover, Hans, like most Germans, is a good psychologist. He'd see right through me. No one must suspect a thing. I must keep my secret even from Hans. When they find me, of course, not even secrets will matter then.

Yes, I might say I have seen a good deal at the age of fiftyeight. I've been married, have grown children, and am not proud to say I'm a grandfather. My kids are raised, the wife has remarried. I have no filial responsibilities. There was a pretty little number about thirty years my junior whom I'd been seeing, but I was jilted by, of all things, a full-blooded American who practices Hinduism and thinks he's some sort of ascetic. He collects welfare— which my salary pays for— and claims he transcends being, a concept difficult enough to formulate, let alone attain. Of course he is thirty years younger than I am also, but he doesn't have half the drive and stamina. Well, then, let them have one another. Charlotte said to me at our final parting, "You're just too nervous for me to be around, Charles. You never relax. You're always on the go. What do you think you're accomplishing, anyway? Tom is so —

"Listen," I said. "Don't tell me about that hare-brained ascetic of yours who sits on his butt all day harmonizing with nature while I feed him. I've got a job to do, and it's not easy. I've got deadlines to meet."

I shouted German imprecations after the S.O.B.

[...] I took his comment to mean that those who did not belong to the Nazi Party had their strength before Hitler's advent and had maintained it. I found this quite a stimulating attitude on the part of many Germans. Of course, some had followed the party, but even in these I saw a begrudging sense of having erred. After all, it was not so long ago that Germany was officially an occupied territory. Of course, the youth had experienced none of this. They wanted new cars, television sets, sports equipment and so on, just like the Americans. They had merely supplanted one false value with another, but the second was less harmless -- or was it?

[...] I kept mute, for our mere walking along, and my knowing where we were going (which place I wanted to attend anyway), and knowing also that the professor felt it to be a surprise all brought a great joy to me, which joy I was certain was the germ of our very gaiety in living. If only I could make such a state more constant -- but it was too late for me. I'd seen right down to the very core of being.

The church as well as man's pride keeps the population explosion going, only the very richest are entitled to adequate medical treatment, and the very attitude of so-called big business is to turn its head away from any disastrous truth that does not drastically affect us today. For them, tomorrow does not count, but here is the catch. Tomorrow is here. Tomorrow is today, for even if we aboutfaced, we are already too late. I'll admit these facts are accessible to one who cares, and I am one of those. That is the very reason I can't stand to sit by and watch all this go on. It is intolerable to me, and there is nothing I can do about it. I have tried to slant my articles to point to the truth, but they were censored. I had even thought of starting my own paper, but I could not get circulation.

The entire object of my bringing these things up was to see if there was one ray of hope, a chink in my argument that would lead me to change my mind. I find none, as I am sure the reader does not. I certainly felt like the man who plays Russian roulette, but I had no chance, so to speak. In this little gun, there was only one chamber. I was sweating profusely. The final moment is not funny. A sunbeam from the window had touched my table. I raised the gun up to my temple. I'd memorized the very spot.