it is precisely the whole soulness which is not a conscious conquest
that I like. I appreciate the merit of the last but it is not that
which attracts me, which also reminds me that I want to tell you that
I have come to the firm, clear and definite conclusion that a person
that loves is not necessarily loving, nor a person that gives
necessarily generous. A loving person may never love and a generous
person may never give, and the practice of either quality does not
indicate an impulse. One can conceive, accept and appropriate the
idea of generosity, lovingness, etc., etc., and act it, but that is
not the thing. I hate all effort which has for its aim the creation
of self, the conscious creation. I like the self to become through
slavery to the best natural impulses and through sacrifice brought in
one's affections. Seeing that we do depend on each other, it seems
to me admissible that the surrender of self, which continues to be
with me the highest of everything, should allow of a direct object as
its means. I used to have a holy respect of the majority. Now, when
I see how many imbeciles go to make up that majority I am no longer
afraid to throw over any precept that has filtered into my head, and
if ever there was a revolutionist in thought, it is I. Foolish
beliefs and hobbies have become adorned with so much that appeals to
the sense of the beautiful that one clings even to that, but then
that is another element which can envelop rational things as well.
Of course all cannot help but be well, but then I am sure that the
present condition is quite off the track and I have no respect for
anything but pain, joy and sacrifice which are the only realities.
Life makes standards and standards don't make life."

Glorupvej 1900.

"I can tolerate wrong and weakness and everything else but that
search for self and above all that pompous blowing of a horn before
such empty things, such big sounding ambitions, that mock glory, that
swelling in noble pride upon such fictitious hallucinations, that
poor mesquin grandness. It is exasperating. I hate ambition to
achieve. However, I suppose I am very foolish. I am a mass of
vanity and self-seeking in my own way, but it is a great pleasure to
cry down. I get roused sometimes on things that are not my business
and I have felt very much inclined to express my opinion about some
thing, but I suppose I had better not."

"My life I think is molded on circumstance and on the best of