ude
pleasures and a rude faith.

*

(On Sunday, while the bells are ringing.)--Art does not enter into the
life of the masses. For them, plastic or dramatic art, or the higher
order of music or literature, do not exist.

The only idea they have of another life, over and above the trivial
present, is embodied by the church, and yet that which is best in all
religions is the poetry they contain.

*

What must become of one who, for years, does not read a serious book,
or does not read at all, and thus takes in no great or well worked-out
ideas? If he be rich and noble, his life becomes vain play; if he be
poor and lowly, it becomes vain labor. And, for this reason, nature has
given us song and history, has established religion which offers its
jewels to all, so that every one may drink of the fermented wine of all
knowledge and all art. But new wine must always be added, or--

*

(July 30th.)--The whole world was veiled in mist, and the sun was
hidden from view. It seemed as if the artistic creative eye were
brooding over the form it was about to usher into life. And then the
cloud-flakes were rent asunder. For a moment, the mountain world was
free. The mists disappear; but new ones arise from the earth.

*

Out in the world the fear of being ridiculed prevents people from
expressing enthusiastic admiration of moonlight. When the whole world
is illumined its soft glow, and no sound is heard save the murmur of
the sparkling brook, I am filled with ecstatic delight.

*

Temptation returns, and says: "You offend against nature by wasting
your rich gifts on tasks that others could accomplish as well as you.
Go out into the worlds and consider your present life merely as a state
of transition."

No! I shall remain!

When I stand on the mountain and gaze out into the world, I often ask
myself: "Art thou still the same Irma? What vestige is left of thy past
glittering life?"

Nothing but the heavy burden that oppresses my soul.

*

Weather-talk is considered a bore, and yet there is no subject more
important. Plants and animals feel the changes, for they determine
their fate from day to day. And are there not men whose whole life is
bound up in the question: "Will the day be clear or cloudy?"

The c