Denver, Colo., Monday, February 10, 1913.
Yesterday as the day wore on, gloom prevailed, increasing until last night, but I clenched my fists and grit my teeth this morning, and will go on.
Three months to a day to my birthday, I notice, who am always looking for auspicious dates for a new start.
The principal issue is clear, I must crucify my perverted hereditary sexual appetites. Absolute continence except under favorable conditions. As these conditions are unlikely to occur, as I am not going looking for them, namely, that a woman yield from pure love or passion, and the only other alternative is marriage, I have a big fight on, but as the issue is life with honor, or death, with or without honor, I feel that I shall make this stand at last, after which the fight will be easier, if without the prospect of happiness, for, after all, I must not expect happiness; I must learn to live without it, to make my life represented by my work, and finally I may attain a degree of peace and rest, if not of happiness. Yes, crucify, the devil.