Oh, the
dog! the dog!

No, never shall I be understood!

I should like to have whoever reads my words be myself for an
instant in order to understand me, people cannot comprehend what
they do not feel, to do so it is necessary to be myself!--and also
myself in my lucid moments.

M---- is seventeen to-day, and we lunched at W----'s. I was horribly
bored. Imagine running down a long corridor, so long that you cannot
see the end, springing forward and finding only a delusion, coming
with your outstretched hands against a wall. That is I!

I rate myself above everything, and the idea that I am placed on the
same level with any one, that people do not consider me different
from the rest of the world, the bare idea makes me angry. I wish
them to forget, to trample everything under foot, to scorn and
destroy all that has preceded me--I desire that there should be
nothing before, nothing after--except the remembrance of me. Then
only I should be content.

When an opportunity offers, I will express my meaning fully.

* * * * *

I went out with neither pleasure nor eagerness. N---- and her
children were going to walk, and we enlarged their party.

"Ah! if you knew how I have treated the human race this morning," I
said to M---- in answer to a remark I no longer remember.

"Ah! if you knew how little it cares! it is a matter of no
importance," replied M----, very wittily.

How dreary it is to have nobody to care for!

My head is heavy and my eyes are closing, yet at the same time I
want to write more, the pen glides easily over the paper and, though
I might have nothing to say, I go on for the pleasure of filling the
white pages and hearing the pleasant scratching of the pen.

"My head is heavy and my eyelids close,
Yet still my gliding pen I will not stay,
Fain would I tell all my heart's joys and woes,
But cannot--though so much have I to say."

I am not successful with serious poetry.

Sunday, October 10th, 1875.

I was going to talk with my aunt, but why appeal to human beings?
What can men do? God alone can help! God does not hear me! Just God!
Holy Virgin! Jesus! I am not worthy to be heard, but I pray you for
it on my knees, I pray so earnestly! Is not prayer a merit, however
small it may be? Do not the most unworthy obtain what they ask
through prayer? Is it nothing to believe and to turn to God? And
though I should write until to-morrow I could say n