But it is pain with other things. It is the sense of pain with the sense of beauty and the sense of the anemone. And there is that mysterious pain.
Who knows the name of that mysterious pain?
It is these mingled senses that torture me.
[March 14.]
I HAVE been placed in this world with eyes to see and ears to hear, and I ask for Life. Is it to be wondered at? Is it so strange? Should I be content merely to see and to hear? There are other things for other people. Is it atrocious that I should ask for some other things also?
Is thy servant a dog?
[March 15.]
IN THESE days of approaching emotional Nature even the sand and barrenness begins to stir and rub its eyes.