Also what I feel I write.
I am my own law, my own oracle, my own one intimate friend, my own guide though I guide me to dead-walls, my own mentor, my own foe, my own lover.
I am in age one-and-thirty, a smouldering-flamed period which feels the wings of the Youth-bird beating strong and violent for flight—half-ready to fly away.
I am not a charming person. Quite seventy singly-used adjectives would better fit me.
But I have some charm of youth, and a charm of sex, and a charm of intellect and intuition, and some charms of personality.
I have a perfervid appreciation of those things in other persons. And my steel has sometime struck fire from their flint.
But always my steel has turned back drearily yet strongly to itself.
[A twisted moral]
To-morrow