In his diary which he gave me to read, I was struck by a strange
aphorism: "God is my desire."
To-day, on returning him the book, I asked him what it meant.
"An unfinished thought," he said, glancing at the page and screwing up
his eyes. "I must have wanted to say: 'God is my desire to know Him.'
... No, not that ..." He began to laugh, and, rolling up the book into
a tube, he put it into the big pocket of his blouse. With God he has
very suspicious relations; they sometimes remind me of the relation of
"two bears in one den."