February 20th.
Oh, that hellish place! What is there in this whole city more brutal than that restaurant?
Day and night, day and night, to see but one thing—to see flashy, overdressed, fat and vulgar men and women gorging themselves! Oh, this will teach me to feel—this at least! I go about with my whole being one curse of rage—I could throttle them! And to bow and smirk and lackey them—all day! All day! Oh, what shall I do—how shall I bear it?
They offer me tips. At first I thought I should refuse; but no, I dare not do that, even if I wanted to. And since I have stooped to do it, I will take all I can get. To get money is my one passion now. Oh my God, how can I bear it!
February 21st.
I said to-day, I must fight this thing—I must, or it will kill me; I can not let myself go to wreck in this fashion—I've got to fight!
And so I got my note-book; and I fell to work to drive myself as of old. The effort that it cost me made me ill, but I did it. I shall keep on doing it—I am like a man faced by a fiend—I must keep on—I must!
But then, why do you want to have new languages? Do you not know enough now to keep you in reading matter for all the time you are ever likely to have?