The Inquisitive Man's Dream

Do you know, as I do, delicious sadness and make others say of you: 'Strange man!' I was dying. In my soul, singular illness, desire and horror were mingled as one: anguish and living hope, no factious bile. The more the fatal sand ran out, the more acute, delicious my torment: my heart entire was tearing itself away from the world I saw. I was like a child eager for the spectacle, hating the curtain as one hates an obstacle' at last the truth was chillingly revealed: I'd died without surprise, dreadful morning enveloped me. Was this all there was to see? The curtain had risen, and I was still waiting.