Viewing page 10 of 11

[[preprinted]] 18 [[/preprinted]]

questions about myself. Does he think I want to confide my life to him. But he wants to put me at ease and I am disgusted that he doesn't see what I really want. It is useless. We'll grow apart because there is so little to hold us together. No use talking of love at any rate. It means too many things. We profess love, just as Jan and I did. At times I believed but when I, put it up by my love for John I'm lost for explanations.

The lovely Sweedish [[sic]] girl is in love with John. Oh John is leaving Friday. I'll miss him as I did when he left C'ville, or when I went to F'ville last summer. How he laughs when he talks. The only things he can cry over are music and sculpture. What is the use crying over ones tragedies or near - tragedies? It flashed on my mind last night a picture of circumstances in 20 years. John dead. He was the only one who had left a deep impression. The rest were only a part of a whole.

I was thinking how amusing a book these pages would make. Studying over trivial happenings Trying to describe emotions that were so obvious. Every line shows my own stupid limitations. John is the only person whom I could respect who loved me. He knows all these things about me. He loves me for something else. Or perhaps he did - My intensity, he said -

[[end page]]
[[start page]]

[[preprinted]] 19 [[/preprinted]]

now it may be habit.

Keene's monologue from a Mattress.  When health is all used up, when money goes when courage cracks and leaves a shattered will There Christianity begins. For a sick Jew, It is a very good religion - - - Still I fear that I will die as I have lived, a long nosed heathen playing with his scars, a pagan killed by weltzchemerz --- I remember once I stood with Hegel at a window I being full of bubbling youth and coffee, Spoke on symbolic tropes, about the stars. Something I said about 'those high abodes Of all the blest' provoked his temper. "Abodes? The stars?" He froze me with a sneer, "A slight eruption on the firmament." 'But' cried romantic I, is there no sphere where virtue is rewarded when we die?" And Hegel mocked, "A pleasant whim. So you demand a bonus since you spent One life time and refrained from poisoning your testy grandmother!" How much of him Remains in me. - Even when I am caught in ^[[ dreams]] of death and immortality. 

To be eternal - What a brilliant thought! It must have been conceived and coddled first By some old shop keeper in Nuremberg, His slippers worn, his children amply nursed, Who, with his lighted meerschaum in his hand, His night cap on his head, one summer night Sat drowsing at his door. And mused, how grand  If all this could last beyond a doubt - This well fed moon, this plump Gemütlichkeit; Pipe, breath and summer never going out - To vegetate through all eternity - - - But no such everlastingness for me!
God, if he can, keep me from such a plight.

Transcription Notes:
- "C'ville" probably Coffeyville, Kansas (her hometown) - "F'ville" might be Fayetteville(went to U of Arkansas there) - weltschmerz (German) "world-pain/ world-weariness": mental depression or apathy caused by comparison of the actual state of the world with an ideal state - Meerschaum pipe is a smoking pipe made from the mineral sepiolite (white and clay-like) - Gemutlichkeit: sense of cozy belonging and cordiality

Please note that the language and terminology used in this collection reflects the context and culture of the time of its creation, and may include culturally sensitive information. As an historical document, its contents may be at odds with contemporary views and terminology. The information within this collection does not reflect the views of the Smithsonian Institution, but is available in its original form to facilitate research. For questions or comments regarding sensitive content, access, and use related to this collection, please contact