I must be free—oh, I must be free!
It comes strangely from the author of The Captive, does it not?
I give all my life to my work, and sometimes, when I am broken like this, I wonder if I do not give too much. Once I climbed to a dizzy height, and I cried out a dizzy truth:
“O God, how as nothing in Thy sight are my writings!”
I do not know if I shall ever reach that height again.
May 3d.
I have not one single beautiful memory in my life. I have nothing in my life that, when I think of it, does not make me writhe.
To all that I have lived, and known, and seen, I have but one word, one cry—Away! Away! Let me get away from it! Let me get away from cities, let me get away from men, let me out of my cage! Let me go with my God, let me forget it all—put it away forever and ever! Let me no longer have to plot and plan, to cringe and whimper, to barter my vision and my hours for bread!