May 14th.
Another day of raw torture. It is like toiling up a mountain side; and your limbs are of lead. It is like struggling in a nightmare,—that is just what it is like. It is sickening.
But then you dare not stop. It is hard to go on, but it is ten times as hard to start if you stop.
I could hardly stand up this afternoon! but the thing was ringing in my ears—it went on and on—I had to go after it! I was in the seventh heaven—I could see anything, dare anything, do anything. It made no difference how hard—it called to me—on—on! And I said: “Suppose I were to be tortured—could I go then?” And so I went and went.
I haven't written it down yet; I felt sick. But I know it all.
Oh men—oh my brothers—will you love me for this thing?
May 16th.
I did no writing yesterday or to-day. I have been terribly frightened.