Neither would be true.
What I prefer is a hellish hovering, an endless torturing Tenterhook
between the two.
And that Wavering preference is against my will, against my reason,
against my judgment, against my taste and liking--against my life, my
welfare, my salvation: against the clear lights of my spirit.
I know I work intently and industriously at the articles of my
damnation in the Wavering--Wavering--
I know it would be better to die at once: failing that, to live
but to live positively as a beggar, a whore, a thief or a milliner.
Knowing that, I know also I Waver: I know I shall prefer to Waver: I
know I shall constantly Waver.