Oh, the horror of not knowing if you can pay your next week's room rent in this fearful city!
February 11th.
I sat and looked at myself to-day. I said: “When a soul is crushed like this, can it ever get up again? Can it ever be the same, no matter what happens? Don't you see the fact, that you've been tamed and broken—that you've given in! And how will you ever rise from the shame of it, how will you ever forget it? All this skulking and trembling—how will you ever dare look yourself in the face again! Will not it mock your every effort? Why, you poor wretch, you've got a broken back!”
February 12th.
And to-morrow again I must go there, trembling and nervous, hanging on a word!
There is not much sense in it, but I have learned to hate all men who have ease and power.
February 13th.