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68 
Thursday, March 8, 1928 

removed her so much that she became content [[strikethrough]] for [[/strikethrough]] during the time it took until the sun had disappeared and she knew she must go back to the little village.  And finally, but a very long time elapsed before it happened, she would be content even in the village — and suddenly became exaltingly happy and absorbed in a new incident.  There had been thousands of them — — some only minutes, the minutes when one wants the sun to stand still where ever it may be, minutes which one wishes to be the first minutes of eternity, minutes one wants to recapture and re-live.  Some of those minutes she had forgotten by now - some she remembered - the time she found [[strikethrough]] that [[/strikethrough]] the shell on the beach that curved and curved until, lost in itself, one couldn't see its beginning but where from somewhere in the pink came a deep, trembling sound like the sea, like the moaning of all the world — the time she suddenly realized that she was the only girl in the village who could milk the cross, [[loony?]] cow in their pasture - the time she knelt in the cathedral, bathed in multi-colored rays from the one lone window, and believed [[strikethrough]] in [[/strikethrough]] - she had never known in what - the time she heard Luelan play a heavenly melody on his violin - moments that would never be captured - moments then ended.  Some of the incidents had been longer - experiences.  There were so glorious.  She would never forget the time 

69 
Friday, March 9, 1928

she walked for days and days in the forest, up the mountains into new villages, where she met new, thrilling people, and went into this villages forests with a strong, fine youth.  The time she went sailing out across the sea with her brother.  She loved him wildly, truly, and he had always been distant.  They set sail one twilight, a blushing sort of evening-sky around them, and went far out in the calm, until only a pink smudge showed them their village.  But they had come back too, and there was an end to that as there had been to everything.  The little bird whose wing she tended, who flew away later, and left her sad. And one of the most thrilling of her episodes was the time she discovered a book of mathematics, geometry.  The triangles and circles attracted her.  For hours she would take the book into the woods and work the problems out. Here was a new reality.  It symbolized nothing and yet it symbolized everything, because she was given certain truisms and felt to put them together to solve another.  And when it was solved she felt a real triumph, unmarred by the opinions and criticisms of other triumphs. [[strikethrough]] It was [[/strikethrough]] But this had ended too — Not because she finished the book, but because one day she decided it was useless, and not creative, and because she decided she felt un-creative things were not worth the effort.  And although she tried to disbelieve these new ideas for the sake of her former happiness, she could not.  The end had come.  More and more incidents.  More and more