2) That the other life begins to attract me, only the process of getting there is terrible. If only I could arrive safely, everything there will be all right;
3) To-day I thought that the object of faith is only one—God. This I must write out, explain.
To-day I am in a very weak state.
May 10. Grinevka. If I live.
Yesterday I wrote a little on The Appeal.[315] Then I went to Mikhail’s Ford.
Saw Strakhov in my sleep,[316] who said to me that I should write out clearly, for the plain man, what God is. “You ought to write it, Leo Nicholaievich,” (Tolstoi.)
To-day my stomach ached a little. I didn’t dine and wrote much on The Appeal. It seems to be taking form. I am feeling fresh in the head, a thing I haven’t felt for a long time. Thanks to my gymnastic exercises, I have become convinced for the first time, that I am old and weak and I must stop physical exercise entirely. This is even pleasant.
I forgot for a moment, my rule, not to expect anything from others, but to do what one ought to do oneself before God,—and there arose in me an evil feeling.... But I remembered, asked in good faith what was necessary and I felt better.
1) There is one object of faith—God, He who sent me. He who sent me, He who is everything of which I feel myself to be a part. This faith is indispensable and satisfying. If you have this faith then there is no room for any other. Everything else is trust and not faith. You can only have faith in that which undoubtedly is, but which we cannot embrace with our reason.