(Many rainy days.)--I long for the sun, and am almost dying for the want of it. I feel as if I were fading, as if perishing with thirst--I cannot live without the sun. It is my debtor for the lovely May days of which I have been deprived. I must have them; they are my only comfort.
If I remain thus dependent upon the weather, permitting every cloud to darken my mind, and every shower to chill me with the feeling that I am forsaken, it were far better I were lying at the bottom of the lake, and that the boatman were telling those whom he was ferrying across: "Far below us, lies a young maid of honor."--I have once before bade farewell to the sun, and I mean to be independent of it.
There are beings who know nothing of rain and sunshine, and yet live.
But there are, also, others who are filled with dew-forming power--but they are the calm, self-contained, powerful natures, whose life is an inner, rather than an outer, one.
(June 12th.)--After many hot days, there was rain last night. The drops are still glittering on every leaf and flower. Oh, the delightful morning that has succeeded the nocturnal storm! To have fully enjoyed such a morning is worth the trouble of living.
Jochem has a lark in a cage--he must have something shut up with him.