I am alive. I am writing, so as to keep my resolution. To-day I wrote letters all morning, but I had no energy for work.
Went to Mme. Shorin.[189] I had a good talk with her. Perhaps even to some purpose. Just as Anna Michailovna[190] said to-day, that I helped her. And thanks be.
I copied the letter to Posha.
Feb. 27. Nicholskoe.
Wrote this morning poorly, but cleared up something or other. Am well. Took a walk. Spoke with Tania. And that is all.
Yesterday was Feb. 28. Nicholskoe.
I have written nothing. In the morning I worked badly. Received a letter from Chertkov and Ivan Michailovich and wrote to both. Walked and went to Safonovo.[191]
This morning I thought of something which seemed to me important, namely:
1) I wiped away the dust in my room and walking around, came to the divan and could not remember whether I had dusted it or not. Just because these movements are customary and unconscious I could not remember them and I felt that it was impossible to. So that if I dusted and forgot it, i.e., if I did an act unconsciously; then it is just the same as if it never existed. If some one conscious saw it, then perhaps it could be restored. But if no one saw it, or saw it unconsciously; if the whole complex life of many people pass along unconsciously, then that life is as if it had never existed. So that life—life only exists then, when it is lit by consciousness.