The Decay of the Angel - Yukio Mishima

Feeling the approach of daylight through his
eyelids, Honda indulged in a soliloquy.
“No, there was never for me a moment when I had
to do it, stop time. If I have something that might be
called a destiny, then it has been in this inability to
stop time.
“There was for me nothing that might have been
called the pinnacle of my youth, and so no moment for
stopping it. One should stop at the pinnacle. I could
discern none. Strangely, I feel no regrets.
“No, there is still time after youth has gone by a
little. A pinnacle comes, and then the moment. But if
the eye that discerns the pinnacle is called an eye of
awareness, then I must offer a small objection. I doubt
that anyone has been more diligent than myself in
putting the eye of awareness to work, more relentless
in keeping it open. It is not enough for detecting the
pinnacle. The help of destiny is needed. I am quite
aware that few have been given that in shorter supply
than myself.
“It is easy to say that strength of will kept me back.
Was that really the case? Is not the will the leavings of
destiny? Between will and determination, are there
not inborn differences, as between castes in India?
And is not the poorer one the will?
“I did not think so when I was young. I thought that