The majesty of my thoughts this evening! Do all these tings read alike as they seem to? They all send a faint nausea thru me - albeit they were sincere at the time & I recant none of my articles of faith. This evening I picture theoretically myself at 70 saying it's done, it's finished, it's what it is, & being no nearer than I am. This moral turpitude at 70 won't be tolerable. I want a revolution now, a mild revolution, something that will put an even 20th cen. asceticism into me at least when I pass the grocery.
The intellectual & artistic delights God gives us are visions & like visions we pay for them; & the thirst for the vision doesn't necessarily carry with it a thirst for the attendant suffering. Looking back I have suffered, not my share, but enough to call it that, but there's a terrific balance due. Dear God please send me Your Grace.
From Flannery O'Connor's A Prayer Journal, page 28.