Berbet casino how to b rise of zeus slot play

Diary of a disappointed man

"I went home and saw it under the sun." The race is not fas t-footed, the fighting is not for those with strong, wisdom has no bread yet, and those who understand are still wealth. No, skillful people have no benefit yet.

"People don't know that time. Like the fish on the bad net, and the birds that are trapped, the children of the people are trapped when they are bad, which suddenly sprinkles them on them." [Page V]

Beginning

H. G. Wells

The egoist declares that he lives only for himself, like a lonely beast, and other interests will live only for others. What is the complaint, even if othe r-th e-artists don't meet anything other than unknown? His premise eliminates the basis of his dissatisfaction. However, both egoist and altruism are philosophical. In most cases, we are egoist within the expressed range, think about the phenomenal experiment of themselves, talk and write if possible. There are various things in our style. Some are covered with the central person, some make it more emerged than to alert, and some pretend to be more frank than necessary: "I am an egoist, other than that. Nothing is an eg g-like egoism, which is the basics of life, and we can forget ourselves. Many people have brought this to regain the sense of life.

"I went home and saw it under the sun." The race is not fas t-footed, the fighting is not for those with strong, wisdom has no bread yet, and those who understand are still wealth. No, skillful people have no benefit yet.

"People don't know that time. Like the fish on the bad net, and the birds that are trapped, the children of the people are trapped when they are bad, which suddenly sprinkles them on them." [Page V]

Beginning

H. G. Wells

1903

"People don't know that time. Like the fish on the bad net, and the birds that are trapped, the children of the people are trapped when they are bad, which suddenly sprinkles them on them." [Page V]

Beginning

H. G. Wells

The youthful side of our universal struggle is most movingly recorded in this diary of an intensely egoistic young naturalist, tragically caught up in the creeping approach of death. The young man is drawn to natural science, to the work of the naturalist, and to the idea that he too will one day be a naturalist. The diary begins with three qualities, from narrow to broad: "I am observing nature," says the boy, self-conscious and self-centered. But he also says, "I am observing nature." And now and then, a clear light breaks through. He forgets that he is in the twilight cave with the bats, or watching the starlings in the evening sky, and becomes just you and me, and the mind of humanity gathering knowledge. And the diary shows us the habits of the observer who rises to the occasion after the cries and sorrows and darkness of the mind, as the sharp blade of a premature fate cuts through the delicate tissues. He realizes that the things that once filled his boyhood dreams -- long life, the honours of science, the Chronian lectures, the Royal Society with its captivating audiences, his memory engraved in a particular or general name, a sure place in the hall of fame -- are not there for him. But here, close at hand, is something that will enable him to continue to observe manfully to the end.

Such a thing is here. Explaining the unplanned and exquisite beauty thread that penetrates the story of this diary will exceed the need for this preface. Anyone who is sensitive is obvious enough, and readers who can't see it have no reason to be underlined to pretend to be invisible. It is also not necessary to explain the quality of this diary that is developing from a fairly difficult egoism in the first half. But it's a good idea to add some explanatory facts that are more natural in the first chapter. Barberion started his life in a disadvantageous situation, both physically and materially. Both parents were not sturdy humans, and their mother finally died of constitutional weakness, and his father belonged to the most unhappy class. Barbellion's father was a newspaper reporter in a rural town in the western part, but his income rarely exceeded hundreds of pounds a year. The educational facilities in the town were poor, and the young barbellion had to study as much as possible as a day laborer in a small private school. How the passion for natural science was born is not stated in this diary. It seems that his uncle, a chemist, has supported that tendency. Such a thing is here. Explaining the unplanned and exquisite beauty thread that penetrates the story of this diary will exceed the need for this preface. Anyone who is sensitive is obvious enough, and readers who can't see it have no reason to be underlined to pretend to be invisible. It is also not necessary to explain the quality of this diary that is developing from a fairly difficult egoism in the first half. But it's a good idea to add some explanatory facts that are more natural in the first chapter. Barberion started his life in a disadvantageous situation, both physically and materially. Both parents were not sturdy humans, and their mother finally died of constitutional weakness, and his father belonged to the most unhappy class. Barbellion's father was a newspaper reporter in a rural town in the western part, but his income rarely exceeded hundreds of pounds a year. The educational facilities in the town were poor, and the young barbellion had to study as much as possible as a day laborer in a small private school. How the passion for natural science was born is not stated in this diary. It seems that his uncle, a chemist, has supported that tendency. Such a thing is here. Explaining the unplanned and exquisite beauty thread that penetrates the story of this diary will exceed the need for this preface. Anyone who is sensitive is obvious enough, and readers who can't see it have no reason to be underlined to pretend to be invisible. It is also not necessary to explain the quality of this diary that is developing from a fairly difficult egoism in the first half. But it's a good idea to add some explanatory facts that are more natural in the first chapter. Barberion started his life in a disadvantageous situation, both physically and materially. Both parents were not sturdy humans, and their mother finally died of constitutional weakness, and his father belonged to the most unhappy class. Barbellion's father was a newspaper reporter in a rural town in the western part, but his income rarely exceeded hundreds of pounds a year. The educational facilities in the town were poor, and the young barbellion had to study as much as possible as a day laborer in a small private school. How the passion for natural science was born is not stated in this diary. It seems that his uncle, a chemist, has supported that tendency.

He gained an assistant job at the Natural History Museum in South Kensington, and was paid comparable to reporters' income. The continuation of this story will not be particularly necessary to explain. Since 1911, barberion has published a paper on regular British and American issues, despite the weakness of physical strength. The scientific performance of the barberion is not only fulfilling and accurate, but also has the qualities that have always made the best biological performance in the UK, such as literary qualities, elegance, processing capacity, and the width of references. There is. This may be enough to talk about the Barbellion's wishes and the tragedy of the dark, unpredictable, unpredictable, unpredictable fate that attacked him. [Part 1]

Part 1-The diary begins when the author is a little past 13 years old.

[The following are the excerpts. ]

He writes an essay about the history of insects, but gives up on writing about how to spend the cat time.

January 17th.

I went to L and Catapult fire. While walking on the main street, I saw osmanthus, but it was very unclear and not a osmanthus. I shot the pheasant in the hedge about one feet. Near the stream, L found a bird that seemed to be a wild duck and hit his head. He is a wonderful shooting skill. Investigating, it was not a wild duck, but a normal wild duck and a female bird. We ran away and told me that L tonight, L, saw that the farmer was in a slaughterhouse store in his hand.

1904

January 19th

I went to S-and L-and A-Wood. In the daytime, I saw Menu Crow (Strix Flammea) flying. I said that A-Wood had a steep cliff, and next spring we all climbed there to find out where birds were to nest. S and I were successful, but L was a little careless, letting go of the trees and fell upside down. He turned over and over again, hitting behind his neck. However, he stood up as usual and said, "It was a bit unpleasant knock."

February 8 He gained an assistant job at the Natural History Museum in South Kensington, and was paid comparable to reporters' income. The continuation of this story will not be particularly necessary to explain. Since 1911, barberion has published a paper on regular British and American issues, despite the weakness of physical strength. The scientific performance of the barberion is not only fulfilling and accurate, but also has the qualities that have always made the best biological performance in the UK, such as literary qualities, elegance, processing capacity, and the width of references. There is. This may be enough to talk about the Barbellion's wishes and the tragedy of the dark, unpredictable, unpredictable, unpredictable fate that attacked him. [Part 1]

Part 1-The diary begins when the author is a little past 13 years old.

[The following are the excerpts. ]

He writes an essay about the history of insects, but gives up on writing about how to spend the cat time.

January 17th.

January 19th

February 8 He got an assistant job at the Natural History Museum in South Kensington, and was paid comparable to reporters' income. The continuation of this story will not be particularly necessary to explain. Since 1911, barberion has published a paper on regular British and American issues, despite the weakness of physical strength. The scientific performance of the barberion is not only fulfilling and accurate, but also has the qualities that have always made the best biological performance in the UK, such as literary qualities, elegance, processing capacity, and the width of references. There is. This may be enough to talk about the Barbellion's wishes and the tragedy of the dark, unpredictable, unpredictable, unpredictable fate that attacked him. [Part 1]

Part 1-The diary begins when the author is a little past 13 years old.

[The following are the excerpts. ]

1905

He writes an essay about the history of insects, but gives up on writing about how to spend the cat time.

January 17th.

January 19th

February 8th

Joe became the mother of a kitten today. Born at 1:20. A tiny little thing. Almost deformed. Grey in color.

Our goldfinch roosts at 5:30. Joe's kitten is very small. Its name is "Magpie".

A usual walk. But it was unlucky from the start. First, we reached "Nightjar Field", where two men were cutting a hedge. Then we reached a fine wood, but were pursued hard by an old farmer, from which we had to retreat in a hurry. There were countless rabbits in the wood, so of course the dog barked furiously. The old farmer is known as "Belle the Bell".

Yesterday, we were glad that the egg season had begun. We must get a blowpipe and an egg drill. Spring has really come, and even the grasshoppers have begun to chirp, but Burke describes these little creatures as "noisy and troublesome" and their chirps as unpleasant. Like Samuel Johnson, he would have preferred a brick wall to a green hedge. Many people go for a walk and fail to appreciate nature because their powers of observation are simply not trained. Of course, there are some who are not at all inclined to such observation and are not troubled by it. In such cases, we should not speak of things we do not understand. Notice that I use the word "nature study"? But it is not a science. It is a pastime of pure joy, of beautiful dreams and fond thoughts, driven by the fact that we are in God's world, which he has made for us to be a comfort in times of trouble. The joy and happy forgetfulness [Pg3] that we get from a country walk are indescribable. I do not mean to say that we need all the ins and outs of the naturalist and the exact knowledge to obtain such a pleasure, but that we need common objects - the sun, the thrushes, the grasshoppers, the primroses, and the dew.

S. and I made a little hut in the woods, taking advantage of a large hole in the ground by a large tree. We pulled down branches all around and stuck upright poles as palings. We train the ivy to grow on them. We smoke "Pioneer" tobacco here and hide the tobacco packets in holes under the roots of the trees. It's like a cupboard.

In the evening, S --- and I ran a bicycle until S ---, when it got dark, descended on the rock, fired, and burned with a crackling sound at dusk. This vacation will contribute a little to the Beatles. Rev. J. Wood of B. O. P. was recommended to study beetles.

December 24th

1906

I went out with L to see the squirrel again. When I couldn't find any of them, I thought it was an empty swing, and I noticed one of L in the nuts and clinging to the tree skin. We chased the squirrel, but the squirrels fled to the thickest fir tree with the nuts on the tree. Later, due to our lack of sports, L gave a mischief, removed the gate of the gate, which was carried to a thick tree 2 meters away, and thrown it to the ground. At that time, he found the squirrel again, jumped over the fence, entered the grove, and chased the squirrel from the tree to the tree with a cat. When I was below, when I tried to return the gate, I suddenly raised my face, and the farmer was looking at me silently while intimidating. I immediately lowered the gate and escaped. L in the squirrel hut did not know what had happened and called on me about the nest. The man raised his face and asked who he was and who I am. L did not say anything and did not try to get off. The farmer said he would come up. L answered that if so, he would spit to him. Eventually, L came down and asked the farmer to give a cup of cider. The farmer gave him boots, and L escaped.

January 23rd

I went to a staghound rally. In the Ogawa in L, I saw a chick that no horses, hounds, or humans could find. It seemed completely indifferent and did not seem to be hunted. I tried to chase it, but a confused sheep dog arrived first and drove off in the wrong direction. If I succeeded in chasing and killing sheep, I would have received a prize. Run and walk 15 miles and return home at 6:30.

I've read Stalky & Amp; Co. I like BEETLE the most among STALKY, BEETLE, and McTurk.

He won the school gymnasium (under 15 years old). In the evening, I ran my bicycle until S ---, and when it got dark, I got on the rock, burning a fire, and burning a crackling sound in dusk. This vacation will contribute a little to the Beatles. Rev. J. Wood of B. O. P. was recommended to study beetles.

December 24th

January 23rd

I've read Stalky & Amp; Co. I like BEETLE the most among STALKY, BEETLE, and McTurk.

He won the school gymnasium (under 15 years old). In the evening, S --- and I ran a bicycle until S ---, when it got dark, descended on the rock, fired, and burned with a crackling sound at dusk. This vacation will contribute a little to the Beatles. Rev. J. Wood of B. O. P. was recommended to study beetles.

December 24th

January 23rd

I've read Stalky & Amp; Co. I like BEETLE the most among STALKY, BEETLE, and McTurk.

1907

He won the school gymnasium (under 15 years old).

I had a considerable adventure today. D and I went to the lighthouse by bicycle. On the way, when I crossed the sandy land near the Hospital Ship, I found a rugged shackle with almost no flying feet. I chased, but the bird climbed on the water accumulated on the belly of about 2 yards. D-took off their boots and stockings, carried me, crossed the sandy beach and ran to the point where the shaksagi was lying out. I took up him and took him away, like a boy with golden eggs. In the meantime, the bird shouted loud and desperate to open a huge long beak and escape. It turned out that the tide was widely deepened and was separated from the mainland. I had to have not only boots and stockings but also field glasses, so I handed out the struggling birds to D-. During the Wataru, I suddenly sank into the sandbox to my waist. I was scared and was pleased to be able to reach the other side safely. However, when I arrived, there was D, but there was no chishakishigi. While swimming on the tide, he was in a hurry and released it. The poor bird was drowned and died. I knocked up my friend P, the captain of Nin Nin, and asked if there was a fire to dry my body. He replied, "There is no fire, but my wife will look for pants." Before that

September 8th.

Rain all day. toothache.

September 9th

September 10th

September 11th

My mother and my father told me that I wanted to give me a G. A. Henti book, but I didn't named me because I was afraid that I didn't want it. I'm going to do that. I am reading the origin of the species. I need careful study, but I understand so far, so I'll read it as it is.

December 26th

The trap has nothing to take. A while ago, I set up two ropes made of spring and horse hair on Ashihara for Mizusumashi. I bought a practical trap book.

January 15th. I had a considerable adventure today. D and I went to the lighthouse by bicycle. On the way, when I crossed the sandy land near the Hospital Ship, I found a rugged shackle with almost no flying feet. I chased, but the bird climbed on the water accumulated on the belly of about 2 yards. D-took off their boots and stockings, carried me, crossed the sandy beach and ran to the point where the shaksagi was lying out. I took up him and took him away, like a boy with golden eggs. In the meantime, the bird shouted loud and desperate to open a huge long beak and escape. It turned out that the tide was widely deepened and was separated from the mainland. I had to have not only boots and stockings but also field glasses, so I handed out the struggling birds to D-. During the Wataru, I suddenly sank into the sandbox to my waist. I was scared and was pleased to be able to reach the other side safely. However, when I arrived, there was D, but there was no chishakishigi. While swimming on the tide, he was in a hurry and released it. The poor bird was drowned and died. I knocked up my friend P, the captain of Nin Nin, and asked if there was a fire to dry my body. He replied, "There is no fire, but my wife will look for pants." Before that

September 8th.

Rain all day. toothache.

September 9th

1908

September 10th

September 11th

December 26th

The trap has nothing to take. A while ago, I set up two ropes made of spring and horse hair on Ashihara for Mizusumashi. I bought a practical trap book.

January 15th. I had a considerable adventure today. D and I went to the lighthouse by bicycle. On the way, when I crossed the sandy land near the Hospital Ship, I found a rugged shackle with almost no flying feet. I chased, but the bird climbed on the water accumulated on the belly of about 2 yards. D-took off their boots and stockings, carried me, crossed the sandy beach and ran to the point where the shaksagi was lying out. I took up him and took him away, like a boy with golden eggs. In the meantime, the bird shouted loud and desperate to open a huge long beak and escape. It turned out that the tide was widely deepened and was separated from the mainland. I had to have not only boots and stockings but also field glasses, so I handed out the struggling birds to D-. During the Wataru, I suddenly sank into the sandbox to my waist. I was scared and was pleased to be able to reach the other side safely. However, when I arrived, there was D, but there was no chishakishigi. While swimming on the tide, he was in a hurry and released it. The poor bird was drowned and died. I knocked up my friend P, the captain of Nin Nin, and asked if there was a fire to dry my body. He replied, "There is no fire, but my wife will look for pants." Before that

September 8th.

Rain all day. toothache.

September 9th

September 10th

September 11th

December 26th

The trap has nothing to take. A while ago, I set up two ropes made of spring and horse hair on Ashihara for Mizusumashi. I bought a practical trap book.

January 15th.

I believe that as a whole is the most dissatisfied person. I am attacked by a seizure called "What's the Good of Anything" mania. I keep asking myself until I get tired of that question: "What are you going to do in the countryside?

February 17th

When I get acquainted with someone who is interested in natural history, I just talk.

The captain advised me to reply to my letter to go to the path of natural history after taking a normal profession. Or do you enter the science class of S. Kenzington or get a post of the Natural History Museum by influence? But you'll know.

I went to S. B. River Bank between the morning school and the afternoon school during dinner. This is the fifth this year. People who live on the opposite bank of T. V. River seem to hear the crying at night and think of it as a nightingale!

Looking back on the past egg season, I have found a total of 44 species 232 nests. I just hope that the beetle season will succeed in the same way.

In a hot and humid afternoon, I was on the grass beside the stone. It was a brave yellow who won. By the way, when I grabbed the tail of the newt today, it rang, "Cukkuku"! After all, the newt has a voice.

I'm sleeping with a hot cold. Unfortunately, NAT. I rarely observe. If you are lying in a bed in a boring bedroom with just one small window, you can't observe anything. Seagulls and mukudori passed, the steam locomotive sounds a whistle, and the horse's feet sound. In the evening, I was tired of noticing that the several pages of Rabok's "Ants, Hands, and Hornet", which I struggled during the day, running around the brain and memorizing them. The clock tells midnight, and I wait for the morning. Oh, what a tired world.

October 13th.

Down with a cold again. I feel pretty useful. It is strange that it does not become a melancholia.

November 6th. I think as a whole, the most dissatisfied person. I am attacked by a seizure called "What's the Good of Anything" mania. I keep asking myself until I get tired of that question: "What are you going to do in the countryside?

February 17th

When I get acquainted with someone who is interested in natural history, I just talk.

Looking back on the past egg season, I have found a total of 44 species 232 nests. I just hope that the beetle season will succeed in the same way.

October 13th.

Down with a cold again. I feel pretty useful. It is strange that it does not become a melancholia.

November 6th. I believe that as a whole is the most dissatisfied person. I am attacked by a seizure called "What's the Good of Anything" mania. I keep asking myself until I get tired of that question: "What are you going to do in the countryside?

February 17th

When I get acquainted with someone who is interested in natural history, I just talk.

Looking back on the past egg season, I have found a total of 44 species 232 nests. I just hope that the beetle season will succeed in the same way.

1909

October 13th.

Down with a cold again. I feel pretty useful. It is strange that it does not become a melancholia.

November 6th.

At 7 a. m. H. and I went down to the river flats with our field glasses to watch the waders. There were a lot of ring-necked plovers. [Page 8]

January 13th.

I have always had the ambition of being a great naturalist. I think it is a child's fantasy, and I know the folly of my desire for such a big thing. Nevertheless, if I study hard, there is no reason why I cannot become a learned naturalist. Whatever I do, I want to do it not for my own fame, but with the hope of increasing the knowledge of the truth. This may make me seem extremely conceited, but in reality I am as humble as can be. I know that I am more advanced than many others, and I know that I will be further along. Life is short, and there is a great deal of glorious work to be done! The dinner bell has rung, and I am off. This is like Izaak Walton's humorous sentences, which are a mixture of the sublime and the ridiculous. He discusses abstract happiness and the best salmon sauce in the same breath.

February 26th

To add even a little to the sum of human knowledge is a great achievement, but to add a thought is even greater. lest we be too much of a naturalist and miss the beauty of things, or too much of a poet and fail to understand them, or even to feel the hidden beauty that only close observation reveals.

I woke up this morning covered in spots, with an inflamed chest and a terrible cough. H. carried me from the attic to the bedroom below, and the doctor came and confirmed the general opinion that I had the measles. There are nearly a thousand spots.

Curiously enough, I met Mary again; but she was with her friend's family, and said nothing, but watched her from a distance through her field glasses.

I had an interview with my old friend, Dr. H., and found out that I had chicken pox. This will not be a diary of a naturalist's observations,[1] but of infectious diseases.

[The editor of Countryside wrote to my brother] that if Countryside grows, he may be able to provide me with lodgings. "Meanwhile he'll get by with his pen. He'll soon make a living and eventually make a name for himself." ] This is kind of nice. I'm always looking for work at the N. H. Journal.

Dec 7

To F. Duck Ponds. A flock of Wigeons and Pintails on the water. Making use of a depression in the land, I followed them admirably, lying down among the long grass and observing them through my field glass. But wild ducks by day are not particularly lively or interesting birds. They just rest quietly on the water, like corks floating on glass. Occasionally one will paddle lazily about. But most of the time they have a very listless look on their face, and look very sleepy and tired. But when I make a careless movement of one of my hands, the whole flock immediately rises and flies off across the river. Then, when I return to the pond at dusk, they come back again. But now, as the sun went down, the drowsy, fluttering creatures of the afternoon transformed into quacking, belligerent, dashing birds, squabbling and arguing with each other, seizing the opportunity for a luxurious bath, flicking the ice-cold water off their backs with a swish of their tails in a display of keen delight. [Page 10]

It was completely dark. A snipe rose at my feet and disappeared into the darkness. And a little egret grew bolder and dived down and began fishing right next to me.

A happy half hour! A pity! Moments like these are more enjoyable the more they pass by. I seldom feel alive. It is always difficult. All that matters to me is a mere shadow, a ghost of a dead day.

I spent my last day at school. De Quincey (or was it Johnson) says, "Whenever you do something for the last time, even if it is something you have been doing regularly for years, you feel a little melancholy, even if it is something you dislike." He is right. December 14th.

I signed my death warrant, a paper for a five-year apprenticeship in journalism. Wow! I'm going to work hard for the next five years so that in five years I can get a job in natural history.

[1] Until 1911, the journal was mainly devoted to general natural history observations, and later to zoology.

As long as one is healthy, one need never despair. If one is not healthy, one may be able to continue the race for a long time. But as the goal of my ambition becomes more and more unattainable, I will surely give up, remembering the words of Keats: "There is no hell more bitter than the failure of ambition."

1910

I am reading the Harmsworth Chemistry Course and learning the latest facts and ideas about radium. I would rather have a clear understanding of the atom as a solar system than a personal income of £100 a year. If only I had eyes that could read without stopping! [Page 11]

I met an old gentleman, a naturalist, who has a great disdain for Genesis. He wanted to know how the kangaroos jumped from Australia to Palestine, and how Noah fed the animals in the ark. He rejected Old Testament theology, and recommended that I read Darwin and J. G. Wood. A foolish old man!

He writes an essay about the history of insects, but gives up on writing about how to spend the cat time.

In the Ring of Bells I had a long talk with the landlord. He was constantly interrupted as he told his life story, but what never dismayed him was the fierce loyalty and devotion of his wife: Joshua has no "arms".

Immediately after visiting a heron hut in the fir trees on the island in the middle of the lake. Immediately after visiting the heron hut in the fir tree of the island in the middle of the lake. It was fun to hear the heron killing the eel "lightly hitting the niedl" and stroking the nape of the thick male's neck to help the eel.

Now, I'm reading Haksley's "crayfish". H --- brought that stunning Acurate Crisis Ignita.

I met M in the market with M. I raised my hat and passed. She has the most wonderful brown eyes I've ever seen. It is a bad sign that is perfectly calm.

When you feel sick, the situation when you die crosses your mind. It cannot be prevented. I think of the nature of the illness, what I said before I died-of course, something heroic-!

She is a wonderful woman. Her eyes are wonderful. I have never seen any more beautiful women.

In the afternoon, the frog was dissected according to the Mines Marshall book. He studied chemistry, attended the evening school class, and was reading physiology (Fosters). I am studying German on my own. I want a microscope.

There are a lot of things to do! What a short time to do it! If you do not suppress your knowledge, you tend to hurry human feet, just like other appetite. I often find it impossible to stand in the middle of the library and understand all the abundant facts and ideas written in books surrounding both hands. If you take out a book from that place, you will feel like you use a pick in a huge stone area to dig. Porter is a library, and is strictly watching the catacomb in this book, spending days passing through the bookshelves, without listening to almost the desire. You can hand over the book over the counter, find the right place, and return it to it without noticing that the book is a person. I'm terrified when I think that Lamb's essay is carried like Fardel.

October 16th

I dissected the eel. According to Cassel's music magazine, the air sac is divided. The eel I opened was not. Under the vent of tail, a heart that seems to be a lymph vessel is found. Immediately after visiting a custy in the island fir tree in the middle of the lake. Immediately after visiting the heron hut in the fir tree of the island in the middle of the lake. It was fun to hear the heron killing the eel "lightly hitting the niedl" and stroking the nape of the thick male's neck to help the eel.

Now, I'm reading Haksley's "crayfish". H --- brought that stunning Acurate Crisis Ignita.

I met M in the market with M. I raised my hat and passed. She has the most wonderful brown eyes I've ever seen. It is a bad sign that is perfectly calm.

When you feel sick, the situation when you die crosses your mind. It cannot be prevented. I think of the nature of the illness, what I said before I died-of course, something heroic-!

She is a wonderful woman. Her eyes are wonderful. I have never seen any more beautiful women.

October 16th

I dissected the eel. According to Cassel's music magazine, the air sac is divided. The eel I opened was not. Under the vent of tail, a heart that seems to be a lymph vessel is found. Immediately after visiting a heron hut in the fir trees on the island in the middle of the lake. Immediately after visiting the heron hut in the fir tree of the island in the middle of the lake. It was fun to hear the heron killing the eel "lightly hitting the niedl" and stroking the nape of the thick male's neck to help the eel.

Now, I'm reading Haksley's "crayfish". H --- brought that stunning Acurate Crisis Ignita.

I met M in the market with M. I raised my hat and passed. She has the most wonderful brown eyes I've ever seen. It is a bad sign that is perfectly calm.

When you feel sick, the situation when you die crosses your mind. It cannot be prevented. I think of the nature of the illness, what I said before I died-of course, something heroic-!

She is a wonderful woman. Her eyes are wonderful. I have never seen any more beautiful women.

October 16th

I dissected the eel. According to Cassel's music magazine, the air sac is divided. The eel I opened was not. Under the vent of tail, a heart that seems to be a lymph vessel is found.

I work hard to balance my daily reporting duties with my own job. Shorthand, typewriting, German, chemistry classes, electrical lectures, zoology (including dissection) and field work. I am reading Mosenthal's Muscles and Nerves.

I dissected a leech. H lent me his microtome, and I borrowed an old razor. My desk in the attic became my laboratory. I get up at 6am every morning to dissect. Daichisuchus, Lumbricus, and Petromyzon fluviatilis are all specimens I collected myself. I was very interested in the "branched baskets" of Petromyzon. But they are hard to dissect. [1] [Page 14]

I cycled to the lighthouse at the mouth of the river. I picked up a land rail in excellent condition under the telegraph wires. Its plumage is a beautiful warm chestnut color. I swept the dunes with a field glass looking for sand plover nesting on the beach, and found a Shelduck (Tadorna) crouching on the flats. I approached cautiously and found a dead drake, with a magnificent plumage. I put it, together with the land rail, in the poacher's pocket, for the shelduck is almost as big as a goose. I heard the cry of a grasshopper, which is rare in the north. Then, watching patiently, I saw the bird moving about like a mouse in the bushes.

I picked up some sea rats (Aphrodite) on the beach, which I put in a 70% jar, as they would be useful for dissection. I also found a skull of a Scyllium.

Near the lighthouse I saw some fishermen pull up a big salmon with a beach seine set from the shore. I was very excited. I walked three miles down the hard sand, cutting through the wind, to the village, where we had tea. I showed her my treasures, rails, ducks, skulls, sea rats, and felt like Samuel Smiles' beloved Thomas Edward. I must have seemed very funny to her.

"How do you know it's a dogfish skull?" I said, a little annoyed.

When I got home, I was waiting for me with the informed that T found a nest. When will this luck end? I have never spent such a perfect 10 hours in Le Grand Air. I eat me this summer. The sea groan in the ear, the sun shines, and tan to the back of the hand. And black eyes like coal. Oh, she is beautiful. [PG 15]

I dissected the sheld lake. I discovered the unusual asymmetry of spinning and enjoyed it very much.

The coine was dissected to carefully examined the very interesting phallic bones, bronchial muscles, eardrums, and half moon films.

Anatomy one of the sea lines. Like a sea urchin, it has a series of liver tubes running in the gastrointestinal tract.

Spring of the forest

In the oak seedlings, we seemed to be wrapped in green clouds. The tall green grass throws a green light on the young oak, and the sun looks into the face. Bluebells were growing between grasses. On the head of the oak, the secret story of the leaves was heard. Birds, trees, and flowers were mysterious beings who were secretly hoped for maternal. Everything that can live in a living, with the same big job, was planning conspiracy together. When the sunlighted grassland was poured, it had a different impact from overseas. Everything was cheerful, lively and irresponsible. Ogawa chatted like a lack of a schoolgirl. Marsh Marigold, wearing a flashy yellow sambonet, became a circle and bloomed roses.

The oak seedlings make the old man friendly. A wel l-behaved young oak has a tremendous possibility. [Page 16]

When I got home, I was waiting for me when I arrived at the house

To L session. After the court went up, I quickly transcribed the notebook and walked to the famous rocky valley, which was described by Saussie as "the old Earth ribs are protruding." At the foot of a hill, I saw a snake called Red Viper. I put my shoes quickly so that I could not escape, and confirmed that I was a Vipera Rubra specimen that I thought was the fourth seed of the British snake. What was difficult was how to secure it. This kind was more ferocious than a normal V. BERA, and I didn't like the idea of lowering my hand and grabbing my neck. I stood for a while with my legs pressed on my back, but I started thinking that my feet hurt and I was bitten. I continued to endure, and eventually stopped running a bakery cart on the road. The man came down and ran to the place where I was standing over the grass. When I showed what was under the boots, he came out of the string, wrapped it around the snake's tail and gently held a small beast. The snake seemed to be weakened, but I pressed my head on the grass on the heel just in case. Even after breaking up while thanking the bakery, I remembered the strength of Adder's vitality, brought it with a string, and sometimes hit a stone. I wrapped it in paper and put it in my pocket because I had no life. In this way, I went home on a tw o-hour railway trip, put a hakubishin in my coat pocket, and put overcoat on the rack overhead. I decided to read Spinoza's ethics book. When the string was pulled, it wrapped around the floor of the living room and rang with a furious momentum. I cleaned it with a fire stick and ruined the skin. [Page 17] L session. After the court went up, I quickly transcribed the notebook and walked to the famous rocky valley, which was described by Saussie as "the old Earth ribs are protruding." At the foot of a hill, I saw a snake called Red Viper. I put my shoes quickly so that I could not escape, and confirmed that I was a Vipera Rubra specimen that I thought was the fourth seed of the British snake. What was difficult was how to secure it. This kind was more ferocious than a normal V. BERA, and I didn't like the idea of lowering my hand and grabbing my neck. I stood for a while with my legs pressed on my back, but I started thinking that my feet hurt and I was bitten. I continued to endure, and eventually stopped running a bakery cart on the road. The man came down and ran to the place where I was standing over the grass. When I showed what was under the boots, he came out of the string, wrapped it around the snake's tail and gently held a small beast. The snake seemed to be weakened, but I pressed my head on the grass on the heel just in case. Even after breaking up while thanking the bakery, I remembered the strength of Adder's vitality, brought it with a string, and sometimes hit a stone. I wrapped it in paper and put it in my pocket because I had no life. In this way, I went home on a tw o-hour railway trip, put a hakubishin in my coat pocket, and put overcoat on the rack overhead. I decided to read Spinoza's ethics book. When the string was pulled, it wrapped around the floor of the living room and rang with a furious momentum. I cleaned it with a fire stick and ruined the skin. [Page 17] To L session. After the court went up, I quickly transcribed the notebook and walked to the famous rocky valley, which was described by Saussie as "the old Earth ribs are protruding." At the foot of a hill, I saw a snake called Red Viper. I put my shoes quickly so that I could not escape, and confirmed that I was a Vipera Rubra specimen that I thought was the fourth seed of the British snake. What was difficult was how to secure it. This kind was more ferocious than a normal V. BERA, and I didn't like the idea of lowering my hand and grabbing my neck. I stood for a while with my legs pressed on my back, but I started thinking that my feet hurt and I was bitten. I continued to endure, and eventually stopped running a bakery cart on the road. The man came down and ran to the place where I was standing over the grass. When I showed what was under the boots, he came out of the string, wrapped it around the snake's tail and gently held a small beast. The snake seemed to be weakened, but I pressed my head on the grass just in case. Even after breaking up while thanking the bakery, I remembered the strength of Adder's vitality, brought it with a string, and sometimes hit a stone. I wrapped it in paper and put it in my pocket because I had no life. In this way, I went home on a tw o-hour railway trip, put a hakubishin in my coat pocket, and put overcoat on the rack overhead. I decided to read Spinoza's ethics book. When the string was pulled, it wrapped around the floor of the living room and rang with a furious momentum. I cleaned it with a fire stick and ruined the skin. [Page 17]

My teeth hurt for a week. It is a coward to extract teeth. I left for P-early in the morning to report to K. C.'s Duke. In the train, I was consolidating myself for the work in front of me, reminiscent of Zora's example of a pain that killed the pain. Therefore, I tried to behave as if there was no pain all day today. Before I got home, I was quite tired, but the pain was actually reduced. This gave me a fierce joy, and the grumpy silence continued for days, but at the dinner seat tonight, I made everyone laugh. I explained for a long time and received a healing ointment from many sympathy. The teeth were still painful, but I was satisfied and went into the bed. I don't think telling my suffering was like a strict game like a Zora. No, I'm neither a martyr or a saint. It's just a normal devil who is spending a hard time.

I enjoyed shrimp fishing on the rocky area at low tide. I could catch five bearded seaweeds and big Kotohime Mushi. Roomed from the sky and filled the sandy beach with light. I sat down on the rock and put a shrimp fishing net on my knees, and looked at the hard and yellow flat sandy beach that lasted three miles. The sun poured violently, and the golden shining dust seemed to be soaring about three feet.

On the rock, there was a pretty flapper wearing a pink sunbonet, and she was fishing with her painter S, who sent her to the Royal Academy. They learned that I was a musician and asked for my judgment about the fish she caught. It was a squid, as she said, a "strange small beast." [I said, "I'm the same friend as squid and octopus."

"Well, it's like that, so it's right." She laughed cheerfully, and a young painter with a beard laughed.

"I don't know anything about this," he desperately said.

"He said desperately," I'm studying fish. "

This was mysterious. fish? So what is a squid?

The painter sometimes stopped, raised his glasses towards passing by, and sometimes hid his face in a pink Sunbonnet, and turned himself in the pool to check seaweed and crabs.

She was a dear woman and gave me squid. What a cheerful child!

September 1 My teeth hurt from a week ago. It is a coward to extract teeth. I left for P-early in the morning to report to K. C.'s Duke. In the train, I was consolidating myself for the work in front of me, reminiscent of Zora's example of a pain that killed the pain. Therefore, I tried to behave as if there was no pain all day today. Before I got home, I was quite tired, but the pain was actually reduced. This gave me a fierce joy, and the grumpy silence continued for days, but at the dinner seat tonight, I made everyone laugh. I explained for a long time and received a healing ointment from many sympathy. The teeth were still painful, but I was satisfied and went into the bed. I don't think telling my suffering was like a strict game like a Zora. No, I'm neither a martyr or a saint. It's just a normal devil who is spending a hard time.

"Well, it's like that, so it's right." She laughed cheerfully, and a young painter with a beard laughed.

"I don't know anything about this," he desperately said.

"He said desperately," I'm studying fish. "

This was mysterious. fish? So what is a squid?

The painter sometimes stopped, raised his glasses towards passing by, and sometimes hid his face in a pink Sunbonnet, and turned himself in the pool to check seaweed and crabs.

She was a dear woman and gave me squid. What a cheerful child!

My teeth hurt from September 1st week. It is a coward to extract teeth. I left for P-early in the morning to report to K. C.'s Duke. In the train, I was consolidating myself for the work in front of me, reminiscent of Zora's example of a pain that killed the pain. Therefore, I tried to behave as if there was no pain all day today. Before I got home, I was quite tired, but the pain was actually reduced. This gave me a fierce joy, and the grumpy silence continued for days, but at the dinner seat tonight, I made everyone laugh. I explained for a long time and received a healing ointment from many sympathy. The teeth were still painful, but I was satisfied and went into bed. I don't think telling my suffering was like a strict game like a Zora. No, I'm neither a martyr or a saint. It's just a normal devil who is spending a hard time.

I enjoyed shrimp fishing on a rocky place at low tide. I could catch five bearded seaweeds and big Kotohime Mushi. Roomed from the sky and filled the sandy beach with light. I sat down on the rock and put a shrimp fishing net on my knees, and looked at the hard and yellow flat sandy beach that lasted three miles. The sun poured violently, and the golden shining dust seemed to be soaring about three feet.

"Well, it's like that, so it's right." She laughed cheerfully, and a young painter with a beard laughed.

"I don't know anything about this," he desperately said.

"He said desperately," I'm studying fish. "

This was mysterious. fish? So what is a squid?

The painter sometimes stopped, raised his glasses towards passing by, and sometimes hid his face in a pink Sunbonnet, and turned himself in the pool to check seaweed and crabs.

She was a dear woman and gave me squid. What a cheerful child!

September 1st

According to his uncle, he went with his uncle to meet a wel l-known Westrare pastor. As expected, he was just a stupid old man, a Diatomania who loves beautiful slides, and not a scientific person. He gives a lecture on the history of the life of butterflies in the "Band of Hope," and dislikes neighboring neighbors who are also microscops.

I told me that my next friend showed me Amphioxus.

"He said he was a fool." I don't understand Wilkinson. He's a pervert.

I taught me what Amphioxus was and laughed under my sleeves. He likes to think of animals like a series of beautiful pictures that explain beautiful moral truth. The salvation of this old man was enthusiastic. While we narrowed his eyes under the gas tube, he had a devastating words, such as "HEAVENS" (heaven) and "Jupiter" [PG 19] (Jupiter). He shines his eyes and rejoiced, and immediately chose another miracle and showed me. "All are miracles.

"While washing your hands with invisible soap," no one has been able to solve the problem of diatoms yet. No one knows its identity. That's because there is a god!

Part 1-The diary begins when the author is a little past 13 years old.

I told me that my next friend showed me Amphioxus.

"He said he was a fool." I don't understand Wilkinson. He's a pervert.

1911

"While washing your hands with invisible soap," no one has been able to solve the problem of diatoms yet. No one knows its identity. That's because there is a god!

The 1000 characters of the road-on the road-on the load-the speech were sent by telegram. According to his uncle, he went with his uncle to meet a wel l-known Westrare pastor. As expected, he was just a stupid old man, a Diatomania who loves beautiful slides, and not a scientific person. He gives a lecture on the history of the life of butterflies in the "Band of Hope," and dislikes neighboring neighbors who are also microscops.

I told me that my next friend showed me Amphioxus.

"He said he was a fool." I don't understand Wilkinson. He's a pervert.

"While washing your hands with invisible soap," no one has been able to solve the problem of diatoms yet. No one knows its identity. That's because there is a god!

The 1000 characters of the road-on the road-on the load-the speech were sent by telegram.

I spent the night at a comfortable rural inn and read Moore's lyrics. The lyrics, "Gently row, my gondolier," was flowing through my head. The inn is old, with a smoking room and a reception on both sides of the elongated slender passage, which lasts straight from the entrance to the back. The cheongdock, the bran laid on the floor, the picture of the derby day running incredibly the horses, the bar, the old and ol d-fashioned voice resounded, and a pleasant Burmese odor drifted. The furniture was put on a solid furniture, and I slept in a surprising bedroom covered with equipment. The bed had a huge hood like Katahark, and when I laid it, I felt like I became a statue. I read Moore until a little time and noticed that I had put a handbag down. I lit a candle and went on a discovery journey. It was quite noisy, but no one woke up. I went into all places, such as guests, kitchens, food stores, reception, bars, etc., and searched for bags, and dropped candle oil everywhere! I slept in a day shirt. I was tired and slept soundly.

November 3rd

Aristotle lantern

Dissection of sea urchin (Echinus Esculentus). Excited by the first Aristotle lantern I saw for the first time. Such a complex animal mechanism never smells even after the century evolution. If you open sea urchins, look at the lanterns, dissect your snail, and look at the branch basket, this structure will be completed as if you had been thrown out of the creator's hands a while ago. , I am surprised that it is elaborate. Fresh, young, and new scent.

December 3rd.

Work on the dissection of Hanamino Kasago. In the afternoon, the Ruridecanal meeting. I enjoy this double life. In the morning, the brain of Hanamino Kasago is exposed, and in the afternoon the bishops on missionary activities are written quickly.

December 4th.

I went to a veterinarian and wanted the skull of the horse. He put his trophy on his arm and took it back in front of the public. When I came back, M said, "Why is it a horse?"

[1] At this time, the painting of the anatomy is scattered in the journal.

My job program is as follows: (1) I continue German. (2) (a) Poultry, (b) dissection of embryo of newtors. (3) Papers on the artery system of the new. (4) Psychology of newt (5) Animalism reads in general. I spent the night at a comfortable rural inn and read Moore's lyrics. The lyrics, "Gently row, my gondolier," was flowing through my head. The inn is old, with a smoking room and a reception on both sides of the elongated slender passage, which lasts straight from the entrance to the back. The cheongdock, the bran laid on the floor, the picture of the derby day running incredibly the horses, the bar, the old and ol d-fashioned voice resounded, and a pleasant Burmese odor drifted. The furniture was put on a solid furniture, and I slept in a surprising bedroom covered with equipment. The bed had a huge hood like Katahark, and when I laid it, I felt like I became a statue. I read Moore until a little time and noticed that I had put a handbag down. I lit a candle and went on a discovery journey. It was quite noisy, but no one woke up. I went into all places, such as guests, kitchens, food stores, reception, bars, etc., and searched for bags, and dropped candle oil everywhere! I slept in a day shirt. I was tired and slept soundly.

November 3rd

Aristotle lantern

December 3rd.

December 4th.

I went to a veterinarian and wanted the skull of the horse. He put his trophy on his arm and took it back in front of the public. When I came back, M said, "Why is it a horse?"

[1] At this time, the painting of the anatomy is scattered in the journal.

My job program is as follows: (1) I continue German. (2) (a) Poultry, (b) dissection of embryo of newtors. (3) Papers on the artery system of the new. (4) Psychology of newt (5) Animalism reads in general. I spent the night at a comfortable rural inn and read Moore's lyrics. The lyrics, "Gently row, my gondolier," was flowing through my head. The inn is old, with a smoking room and a reception on both sides of the elongated slender passage, which lasts straight from the entrance to the back. The cheongdock, the bran laid on the floor, the picture of the derby day running incredibly the horses, the bar, the old and ol d-fashioned voice resounded, and a pleasant Burmese odor drifted. The furniture was put on a solid furniture, and I slept in a surprising bedroom covered with equipment. The bed had a huge hood like Katahark, and when I laid it, I felt like I became a statue. I read Moore until a little time and noticed that I had put a handbag down. I lit a candle and went on a discovery journey. It was quite noisy, but no one woke up. I went into all places, such as guests, kitchens, food stores, reception, bars, etc., and searched for bags, and dropped candle oil everywhere! I slept in a day shirt. I was tired and slept soundly.

November 3rd

Aristotle lantern

December 3rd.

December 4th.

I went to a veterinarian and wanted the skull of the horse. He put his trophy on his arm and took it back in front of the public. When I came back, M said, "Why is it a horse?"

[1] At this time, the painting of the anatomy is scattered in the journal.

To C. Hill. I was too fascinated by the beauty of the forest, and it wasn't a nest. Here are some of what I saw. Some of the barks in the Mazard Orchard were rubbed when the red Devon beef scratched the itchy, beautiful, smooth and sophisticated. When I put my hands on a smooth bark close to cherry blossoms, I was delighted and grateful for the cow to have fleas. I caught a small lizard across the road. In the distance of the valley where I went, I saw a cow sitting on the field in the brush of the holly. When she moved her ears, two birds fell on her back. Rabbits popped out of the bushes of Sweet Brier, and the whale of the right hand came out.

In another direction, I saw a field with a lush and tall grass. Every stem is full of sap, and if I cut the stem, the green drops must have dripped. Some lamb were sleeping in the field. One of them woke up and looked at me with the back of the head at the low position.

As soon as you get baptized in the sun, you have to return home again. As soon as the sudden lily flower passes between the loose fibers, I return to the old groove, that is, every day. If you have more time! -If you have time to think, love time, observe time, time to form your temperament, more time to develop your personality and expand as much as possible! Instead of working on boring occupations or working on another profession, we can focus on the great and difficult occupations of humans.

On Randy

Frankie is blowing seagull eggs in the chores. The father, who has finished his daily work on the farm, is very hungry at dinner.

"How are you in good shape, o n-site supervision?"

"And Frankie, with affection, the sound of unpleasant fried eggs like asthma, three dogs are sleeping under the kitchen table. [Page 22]

Egg gathering with the lighthouse keepers. They stalk the cliffs as sure-footed as cats, collecting bird eggs in little bags on the end of long sticks and feeding them to dogs. One dog ate three in a few minutes, cracking the shells with his teeth and licking the insides. Crabs for tea.

After a fun day with the puffins at the north end of the island, choking on the smell of Albert's tobacco and his stockinged feet and booted feet, we decided to take another walk tonight.

My governess is a very pretty girl. Today we were talking together and she asked me if I was a naturalist. I said yes. "I found a funny little beetle yesterday," she replied. "Then I thought she was looking at me, so I looked across the beach at her. Yes, she was. Our eyes met, she gave me a cute, teasing smile, then she turned and walked up the cliff path.

I'll be back tonight on the cattle steamer.

Dr.--, M. A., F. R. S., D. C. L., LL. D., called at the office today. Dad answered, and he handed me his business card. He's 80 He was an old gentleman of about 18 years old, wearing rubber boots and carrying an umbrella. But I respected him as a noted zoologist and accepted his invitation to accompany him on a short trip to the coast. [Omitted].

I happened to mention that I thought the twisting of gastropods was one of the most fascinating and difficult problems in zoology. Why do snails twist?

"Why do humans stand upright?"

I pretended that his reply knocked me out, as I was not stupid enough to argue with him. But it gave me a good idea of his intelligence.

We dined at his hotel that night. He knew Wallace and Haeckel personally, and I sat at his feet with my tongue out and listened to his personal reminiscences about these great men. But he never seemed to have heard of Gaskell's "Theory of the Origin of Vertebrates."

I walked to V. The larks are singing, the cherries are ripening, the bees are humming. It was all a little boring to me. Why not a little variety?

I received a cold note from the Dr. saying that he could not be held responsible for advising me to give up journalism for zoology.

I have a bad head cold. My eyes are also very inflamed. I heard them singing in the chapel: "God wipe away every tear from their eyes". I hope so, I hope.

A change. After a long lethargic experience at Sheffield etc., the final climax was yesterday, but this morning an anticyclone arrived and I sailed like an eagle in cloudless, windless weather! The Academy published my paper, my cold is suddenly better, and this afternoon I went to the seaside and met Mary--! [24]

I received an interesting letter from my aunt F--, whose maiden name is F--, who does not like the "agnostic atmosphere" of my Academy paper. Poor me! If I really think so, it would be a pity to put it in print. And a biblical reference to the Epistle to the Romans.

I feel as bad as a sloppy tadpole. My will is paralyzed. I go to the doctor regularly, get examined, wander about the city, read magazines in the library, and sometimes go to the skating rink. When I think of the shortness, suffering, and uncertainty of life, all scientific labor seems to me a waste.

January 10th.

I am better, but still very gibberish. I have a weak heart and an exhausted nervous system. I am plagued by a lack of funds to continue my research, and I hate the press, and especially scrawny speakers like --. But all I want is zoology. Why won't life leave me alone?

January 15th.

Read Hardy's novels. He is very amusing in his sensitivity in detecting the first little premonitions of love between hero and heroine. The careless touch of a hand, the glimpse of a foot or ankle under a skirt, all these in Hardy signify clouds no bigger than a man's hand. They are like the breeze before a storm, and you wait with palpitations for what follows. [Pg25].

February 3rd

I have been in a state of mental agitation these past few days. All sorts of pictures of love, life and death have passed through my mind. Now I am too lazy and lethargic to write them down. I am physically worn out and have to whip myself to do something as minor as putting on my boots, like an Arab slave in the sands of Ayaman. This would have seemed impossible three months ago, when I was up before breakfast dissecting rabbits, golden eagles, frogs and newts.

February 6th.

Still visiting the doctor's operating room every week. I have two dull spots at the base of both lungs. What an easy word to describe it is melancholy. Let me write it: melancholy.

One evening, while returning home from Sessions, County L, by train, I noticed a terrible wheezing sound every time I took a deep breath. I was terrified and immediately thought of pneumonia. I went to see the doctor the next day, and was relieved to see that he had examined me. I was afraid to tell him that I had a small wheeze at the top of both lungs. The next day, feeling very angry, I went to him again and told him about it. He didn't notice it and looked gloomy. I have to go out as little as possible.

Worried about my health, reading (forever reading), reflecting, observing, feeling, loving, hating, without any outlet for extra steam, cramped and cramped on all sides, without friends or influences, even without acquaintances other than my journalistic colleagues (for whom I blame them).

The facts cannot be denied: life is pain. No sophistry can lead me to any other view. And yet a few years ago I set out hopefully and bravely. My ambitions are huge but vague. I underestimate my capabilities.

A letter arrived from the head of the zoology department at the British Museum, informing me that there were three vacancies in his department, and asking me to try them out. The doctor's visit bore fruit. [I spent the morning daydreaming. Perhaps this was finally the high tide! If I was nominated, I would work like a horse and ride it out. I waited in a frightening and unstable frame of mind for events to develop. There was an almost mad desire to control the factors that would forever determine my future. And this ferocious desire, of course, was in conflict all day with the fact that, no matter how much I wished, there remained an unalterable logic of events.

. How delicious it all seemed! To be alive, to think, to see, to enjoy, to walk, to eat. I enjoyed the sensual pleasures of animal existence.

My life so far had been a great internal conflict and struggle, between great ambition and a weak will that was inadequate to cope with it. Perhaps I had planned too big. I have overtaxed my talents, beaten my faltering will, brooded, worried, and thought of ways out. And yet the moment passed unnoticed and unenjoyed. [Pg27]

Solitude is good for the soul. After an hour, one feels as noble and imperial as Marcus Aurelius.

The best woman in the best dress looks lewd at the drop of her stockings.

Some old people reach a certain age and continue to live bound by bad habits.

How much we can learn about other people by laughter.

The bees, the poppies, the swallows... and all that they mean to those who really know them! Or the white seagulls on a floating log, or the flock of shiny blue jays that approach the ploughman's heels on a clear autumn day.

I am astonished at my own egoism. Similarly, my consciousness of myself becomes extremely intense. Every time I walk down the High Street on market day, my self-consciousness expands my proportions to that of Gulliver. It saddens me to think that the townsfolk see me as nothing more than an insignificant bourgeois youth who reports meetings in shorthand.

Tonight we sang in church: "But when we know thee as thou art, we shall praise thee." So true! Until then, good-bye. We, men, are very small. If there was no afterlife, the human spirit would live and voice its protest.

Ancestor of the Smir

How I hate the man who speaks of "Brute Creation" with an ugly emphasis on the brute. Only Christians can do that. For my part, I am proud of my close kinship with other animals. I have a jealous pride in being an ancestor of the Smir. I would like to think that I was once a fine hairy fellow who lived in the trees, and that my skeleton has come down through geological time via sea jellies, earthworms, amphibians, fish, dinosaurs, and apes. Who would trade these for the pale couple of the Garden of Eden?

I don't like to sleep. Every day ends with a little sadness. I hate the time to put away my book, put out my pipe, and say "good night."

I spent the afternoon and the evening with Mary in the woods. We had tea in the Haunted House, and sat in the Green Arbor until the sun went down. "Achilles was no bad warrior because he wore a petticoat and got a reprieve."

September 1st

I hope I don't want to marry her. I kissed her in the park in the dark. I was trying and experimenting with new experiences.

September 4th

I was persuaded last night to kiss her. My personal opinion on this incident is that I was at least 20 degrees below the heat of true love all the time. In any case, I am constitutionally and emotionally dishonest. I said something unbelievable just because it was dark and she was attractive.

September 5th

I read Thomas a Kempis on the train. I was so angry that I almost threw it out of the window. "Don't touch anything that is too deep for you," he says. Seriously! Can't you see me? [Pg 29]

September 15

When I got home, I was waiting for me when I arrived at the house

He sat at the Public Service Committee's exam venue in Burlington House and took B. M. Only two questions helped my nine months of enthusiastic preparation. In short, I was rejected, I was not appointed, and after a few weeks I would return to the N-wander of the old system.

Under the old system, parents of the greasy poor will be reported and complained, and will be condolences from those who are not happy with other people's misfortune.

October 14th

Returned from London. As I straddled the threshold, I felt a terrible defeat. It was very easy to understand to return after the unsuccessful flight.

October 22nd.

Payed 2s. 6d. To the Primus Marine Research Institute to the Primus Marine Research Institute.

October 23rd.

He is trying to feel a practical life philosophy that accepts hiring [PG 30], pretending to be calm, and has a wide and generous smile to accept the town council meeting. At the moment, ambition is eroding me. I was ambition before bleaching. When I was a kid, I thought I was a young Makoray or Ruskin, and I remember that I decided so secretly. My young heart had a grudge to those who claimed me as ordinary children, not prodigies. Since then, I've been fighting this can, but when the success is not, this can have gained fangs.

October 24th.

The town council in the morning and the rural council in the afternoon. This abominable garbage is written in a notebook and is waiting for a copy. Now that the dream painting of a quiet research life on Chrome Well Road has not yet disappeared from my head, where should I seek comfort? Do I say I did my best? It is only the word that the mother says to the child.

Dive in the attractive small secrets, dig deeper, use females and microscopes eagerly, and incorporate the obtained facts into the theoretical narrow path. It's fun for a naturalist, but the world doesn't move. I sometimes envy an enthusiastic believer with a clear mission in life. A life without a mission seems to be empty. Just pursuing a monotonous occupation such as soldiers, aquatic, and candlesticks, they just work, do not think, do not think, and just do hypnosis on their own and strict life. Live a long life like a toy with many machin e-based toys, and stops when death comes. I am surprised that human beings must work as a slave for most of their precious days, the minimum necessary for clothing, food, and survival.

What is the meaning of such a life in summary of my disappointment? Where are you connected? Where am I going? Why do you have to work? At night and noon, we all move intentionally and strictly, as if there were some purpose and goals. Of course, it is a completely different problem for those who believe in the afterlife and personal God. Christians are outstanding egoist. If you can get eternal life in the afterlife, don't worry about the disappearance of harsh labor in this world. He spends recklessly today and waste his life. This unbearable person would be cheerful in the dungeon. I'm proud that the heavenly almighty god is constantly monitoring from the keyhole and stamps himself to get eternal life.

October 26th

The ironic shop, who studies La Rochko and is proud of his knowledge of human motivation, is from a philanthropist who advertises himself through charitable to a natriot who throws his life for the cause. I am willing to point out that every motivation is selfish. Even a secret philanthropic activity is because it gives the exercise. Therefore, the sarcasm intends to make the human nature naked by simply adding a psychological female. In other words, instead of classifying selfish motivation and no n-selfish motives (it is more convenient), it is a selfish motive. For example, the selfishness of a man who beats his wife is lower than the selfishness of a man who kills his life for others.

October 28

The results came in. As expected, there were only three places and I came in fourth.

November 7th

There is no use in bemoaning the course of luck. It is no great credit to possess something so precious, though one may long for it, so dependent on circumstances beyond one's control. [Pg 32]

November 9th.

Dined with Dr. H. and Mr. -- at the Devonshire Club, St. James's Street. Eight-course dinner. I placed my salad on my plate, rather than on the side dishes. Extremely nervous and silent. I was expected, it seemed, to give an account of myself and my abilities, and to that end they gave me several nudges in the ribs of my skull. But I am a peculiar animal, and before I could let myself loose I needed a happier setting than a West End club, and a more tactful approach than the stares of two professors who seemed to think I was merely a slot machine for pocket change. I froze up with nervousness, and nothing came of it.

November 11th.

On my return, a letter was waiting for me from Dr. A. offering me temporary employment as assistant at the Plymouth Marine Laboratory at £60 a year.

I left London deeply depressed. It seemed to me that they were going to fire me.

Read Geo. Read Gissing's novel Born in Exile. Godwin Peake's strong sense of personality, his capacity for self-deprecation, and his sentimental languidness remind me of myself.

November 20th.

Purulent cold in nose. Weak heart. The slightest movement makes me palpitate. But I shall soon wield my club in the battle of life. All the powers and devils of the world may attack me, but in the end I shall be victorious.

Nominated for Plymouth. [Pg 33]

November 30th.

A heart attack has been putting me in the deep again these past few days. I am gradually getting better, and trying to forget as quickly as possible the visions of sudden death, coffins, and death notices.

December 2nd

Just as Cain was, when we were still young, death stirs our curiosity. [And every time you hear the death of a person, you try to remember the person's life, and you are disappointed. What is that death, compares and tries to discover the two, the living figure and the dead. And finally, a wel l-known person dies. I can't forget that the dormitory mother died at D-School. As the years have passed, we get used to a man with a sickle, and the death of an acquaintance is only a little gossip.

December 9th

Sometimes I feel crazy. Living for days in the mysteries and tears of things, even common things and familiar faces will look like a ghost, unrealistic and mysterious. In a world of stupid and sophilin x-like things that I can't explain myself, I am almost completely skepticism, atheism, and the independence of theory. The discovery that I am on the globe of the universe cover me cover me. I hope I'm just nothing.

Late talk: When I was attending a public meeting, the office boy approached me and quickly did this.

"Your father is at the T Railway station. He seems to have obviously caused cerebral hemorrhage."

(How the cruel words, "I'm losing consciousness and lying down," was hitting me, bullying, and beating me. My mother was waiting for me in a terrible state and anticipated the worst situation. ).

I got on the train with my teacher and sent my teacher to my house by taxi. He lost his words and his right half was powerless, but he smiled with his left hand. At the end of the railway, he found him falling on the secon d-class floor.

December 10th

He got a little better. It has been 15 years since I had the first paralyzed stroke. Just as Caine was, when we were still young, death stirs our curiosity. [And every time you hear the death of a person, you try to remember the person's life, and you are disappointed. What is that death, compares and tries to discover the two, the living figure and the dead. And finally, a wel l-known person dies. I can't forget that the dormitory mother died at D-School. As the years have passed, we get used to a man with a sickle, and the death of an acquaintance is only a little gossip.

Let's say the fire of the orthodox hell really exists! There is no guarantee that there is no! It's incredible, but a lot of incredible things are true. I don't know that God is not as cruel like a Spanish heresy. Let's say so! After death, if we were the evils to be pushed into the fire furnace ... we had no choice but to be burned. There is no rescue. That is God's providence. It's ridiculous that we are so powerless and we have to rely on everyone or God.

December 9th

1912

Late talk: When I was attending a public meeting, the office boy approached me and quickly did this.

"Your father is at the T Railway station. He seems to have obviously caused cerebral hemorrhage."

(How the cruel words, "I'm losing consciousness and lying down," was hitting me, bullying, and beating me. My mother was waiting for me in a terrible state and anticipated the worst situation. ).

December 10th

He got a little better. It has been 15 years since I had the first paralyzed stroke. Just as Cain was, when we were still young, death stirs our curiosity. [And every time you hear the death of a person, you try to remember the person's life, and you are disappointed. What is that death, compares and tries to discover the two, the living figure and the dead. And finally, a wel l-known person dies. I can't forget that the dormitory mother died at D-School. As the years have passed, we get used to a man with a sickle, and the death of an acquaintance is only a little gossip.

December 9th

Late talk: When I was attending a public meeting, the office boy approached me and quickly did this.

"Your father is at the T Railway station. He seems to have obviously caused cerebral hemorrhage."

(How the cruel words, "I'm losing consciousness and lying down," was hitting me, bullying, and beating me. My mother was waiting for me in a terrible state and anticipated the worst situation. ).

December 10th

He got a little better. It has been 15 years since I had the first paralyzed stroke.

I took over all his work and immediately wrote a letter declining the Plymouth appointment.

December 23rd

Today I went upstairs to my bedroom and decided not to go to Plymouth after all. I laughed a lot, and my father was relieved. What a joke. What pisses me off is that the rest of the people, the mindless, heartless mob, as Schopenhauer puts it, still continue to consider me one of their own. It's so painful to be thrown back into the mud and sweat of a newspaper office when I could have escaped so close to my seaside laboratory. [Page 35]

December 26th.

Walking with the dog through Windy Ash. It was a beautiful winter's morning. The low sun cast a pale light, but no warmth; a wren whistling overhead; a deep-cut path washed hard and clean by the winter rains; a gunshot from a distant hideout; a wren quietly tamed in the bushes; and behind the five-barred gate, a hollowed-out granite roller. I leaned against the gate and saw a whisper of a great cloud in the sky, like the tail of a comet. Everything was cold and crystalline.

[He was talking about me to the museum authorities.

My aim as a young man was to overcome all obstacles, to defy delay, and to win success almost immediately, without being hindered by anyone! But then I saw 1910! "When the horses start to run, I step back, and when they stop, I step forward, occasionally turning sideways to break the monotony.

January 30th.

I am ill and suffer from fits of fainting. My ill health has changed my attitude towards work. If I start to feel the least bit depressed, I immediately stop. I clench my teeth at my desk or at my dissection tray, reading or studying, because the thought that I may be dead tomorrow, the day after, next week, next month, or next year makes me sick. What a waste of work! Zoology is repulsive and philosophy superfluous compared with the bliss of sitting in a chair in front of a roaring fire in the cold polar air, or indoors, with my hands clasped together, and watching the lively and pleasant movements of the flame. [Page 36]

As soon as they get well, they forget everything, feel dissatisfied with doing nothing, and work like a tiger.

February 11th

Take a walk in the countryside. When I got home, I was afraid of a really intense palpitations. I thought the meeting of the meeting was an unfortunate person who would pick me up. Every time a person on the road approached me, I thought about how to measure the first aid, weighing that person. After my friend P. C.-- passed by, I was sorry that the tragedy had not yet occurred. He leaned out of the riverbank many times, arrived at the library, and when he sat inside, he quickly became palpitations. My face is hot with hot blood, the hand holding paper trembles with anger, and my heart is dokun! Dokun! Dokun! I felt the sound of the neck of the neck, the torcular herophili on the back of the head, and the thick blood vessels. He feared that the evil spirits would worsen, so he sucked his breathing very quietly. I went home (I don't know how) and replenished with salt. It's getting better now, but I'm very motivated.

February 13th

The mood is like an extended thread work, an unprevised negative, a jellyfish riding on a bamboo horse, a sloppy tadpole, a beetle in a tree nut, or a spatula eel. In other words, it is shor t-circuited.

February 16th.

After a sudden death vision was always in front of him, he came to the conclusion that it was a long way to die. In any case, I'm going to come back. But this is a terrible pages in my history. [Page 37]

The doctor's order has worsened the enthusiasm for animal research by the doctor's order to stop working. I lie on the bed, praise animal studies, and talk about animal scholars, Hakusley, Wallace, Brooks, and Rankester. Animals have no ambitions on the stock exchange, do not touch slum life, and do not include tariff reform. In the spacious labs and large museums, there are few lives with vulgar struggles, hustle and obscene. Behind the door, life is flowing slowly and deeply. I am abstinent and longing for a retreat like a monastery for student life.

From maiden to maiden. And as soon as you get well, you forget everything, feel dissatisfied with doing nothing, and work like a tiger.

February 11th

February 13th

February 16th.

From maiden to maiden. As soon as they get well, they forget everything, feel dissatisfied with doing nothing, and work like a tiger.

February 11th

February 13th

February 16th.

From maiden to maiden.

Mrs. Seamsaw, who is a poor, talks, even though no one knows. The nurse put me a grape in my mouth, but I didn't know what to do, so I think it's very poor. " She was taken about two weeks ago in Easter. Please tell me if this is correct. A 1/2 ounce carbolic is melted in a 1/2 pint rose water. The two small children of Harry Gamon are on, and the poor Mage has gone with Susan, and there are few money left in the poor Joe Gamon. You may have seen Tom Sag married another daughter of Ned Smith, but Smith's girls are rare housekeepers, and the daughter who married Tom Sag seems to make all the linen. 。 Mrs. Wilkins, a butcher, will have a small child for the first time in 15 years. The pastor fell asleep with an abscess, but the other day he talked about his brother. In the village, three men became sick. There were four people, but one died of cancer.

"Love Sister Amy"

If I die, I want to be buried in V --'s cherries.

Mafia like a beast loves tragedy! The sudden death of the bank branch manager involved the whole town into the swirl of excitement, and the newspaper sold like flying. The coincidence that he died on his birth anniversary, while the corpse cooled, became a hot topic in any home. Police and housekeepers, mayors, town government officials, taxi drivers, and bills talk and talk about the last words of the deceased gentleman and what the widow left. "Oh, that's very sad," they say with each other without any impressed and continue walking on their own. "I was a dear sister, I was waiting for me. I was told that I was inhabited and took the medicine in a dipheria.

"Love Sister Amy"

If I die, I want to be buried in V --'s cherries.

Mafia like a beast loves tragedy! The sudden death of the bank branch manager involved the whole town into the swirl of excitement, and the newspaper sold like flying. The coincidence that he died on his birth anniversary, while the corpse cooled, became a hot topic in any home. Police and housekeepers, mayors, town government officials, taxi drivers, and bills talk about the last words of the deceased gentleman and what the widow left. "Oh, it's very sad," they say with each other without any impressive feelings. "I was a dear sister, I was waiting for me to contact me. I had an inflammation twice in three weeks, so I thought it would be better to see a doctor, so it was a cataly of my eyes and tracheal. I heard that I was inhabited and took the medicine in the hyperateller.

Mrs. Seamsaw, who is a poor, talks, even though no one knows. The nurse put me a grape in my mouth, but I didn't know what to do, so I think it's very poor. " She was taken about two weeks ago in Easter. Please tell me if this is correct. A 1/2 ounce carbolic is melted in a 1/2 pint rose water. The two small children of Harry Gamon are on, and the poor Mage has gone with Susan, and there is almost no money left in the poor Joe Gamon. You may have seen Tom Sag married another daughter of Ned Smith, but Smith's girls are rare housekeepers, and the daughter who married Tom Sag seems to make all the linen. 。 Mrs. Wilkins, a butcher, will have a small child for the first time in 15 years. The pastor fell asleep with an abscess, but the other day he talked about his brother. In the village, three men became sick. There were four people, but one died of cancer.

"Love Sister Amy"

If I die, I want to be buried in V --'s cherries.

In the evenings, coming downstairs, I played ludo with H--. At one time, I laughed so hard with the Harlequin H that my stomach muscles cramped and tears flowed.

H-- and I played Lourdes nonstop. We developed a gambling fever, and our pent-up excitement would burst at times into [Pg 39] devilish shrieks.

Character

To the unfortunate people of the world, he is the ripe sympathy of a well-developed nature, completely selfish and somewhat ungenerous, in strong contrast to the rest of his personality, which the strong of impeccable character would call "weak." If you are sick, he is a delight; if you are strong or successful, he can be very unpleasant. If you have the flu, he will take care to bring you books, but if you tell him triumphantly that you have passed an exam, he will say: "Oh no," I replied, comforting him. "It's a real misfortune to pass." And only bankruptcy, dipso (as he was called), ne'er-do-well, sudden death touch his heart and elicit sympathy. He is a short, gentle, dressy little man, always lively and clean. His pleasures are a glass of beer, a full stomach, a good cigar, or the flirting of a pretty girl. He frequents taverns and billiard halls, goes to dances, and is a magnet for the ladies. "When a charming maiden walks down the street, he says, with the air of a connoisseur, 'That beam is a bit too broad.' At about twelve o'clock we walk together through the park, "long but short" (he is only half my height, and I call him half), and we have heated discussions about the most trivial things, like whether or not to marry the girl with the sore eyes. More than once, taxi drivers have caught him idly at the taxi rank.

He himself is good at speaking, but he does not listen to the story of others. This pest sometimes can complete your joke to the end [PG 40]. He is a leading imitation entertainer, and all the people and all public offices appear one after another, and all the people change all the time. He may also imitate me and please me. His brain is a receptionist rather than a creative, picking up any kind of flashy ideas that fall on the roadside like a jetter, and a trivial stolen item (he stealed from me), he himself. You can enjoy the exquisite feeling of listening to your feet as if it were. His ideas are always unmistakable.

His favorite poems are Omar and reading prison ballads, and their favorite sake is Medoc or Cherry Mixture. He describes me as a snak e-like snake, a pin head. He will entertain me. In fact, I love him.

No one can understand that it is the most unfortunate thing for humans to hunt down and consume themselves, without personal experiences. 。 I began to hate myself. I am thinking only about myself as if there is no such thing as my fineness, hypersensitivity, pathological personality, always thinking, talking, writing, and as if there is no world over there! I am a ring in the ring, a circle crossing concentric circles, a maze, and tangling. Looking at my behavior and mismanagement, I always think about what kind of impression I am giving others and what the other person thinks of me. If I introduce me to a stranger, I will swell like Alice. Because of excessive sel f-consciousness, I have higher air pressure, and as a result, I am awkward, clumsy, swelling, and I don't know how to talk.

Later talk: Some people say youth is drunken without wine. Life is drunkenness. The only calm person is melancholia. He is disillusioned, stares at his life, looks as it is, and drains his throat. If so, I want to get drunk. The great thing is to live, cling to your existence, driving with something great and fascinating. Especially, you must be careful about all the ultimate questions.

Interview with the 2 1-yea r-old "Evolution", a young man who is interested in philosophy, religion, social reform, the future of mankind, and all free ideas! " It's okay if you are 21 years old.

Epilogue: I am also thinking of doing research on the vascular system of newt larvae. In the fall, a big job awaits me on animal psychology, i. e. the relationship between frequency of stimuli and habit formation. But my doctor has recommended a long rest, and I still have some office work to do. I have to get through somehow. And when someone plays a dreamy waltz, my fine edifice of will disappears into the mist. Is it worth it? Why not be swept away by the tide? But I quickly shake off this temptation. As long as I live, I will play a great game! I am determined. A tacky life is of no use.

Train travel

Train travel makes me sentimental. I walk along the seaside, whistling a refreshing tune, and enter the compartment feeling like a strong and cheerful young man, but as soon as I sit down in a corner and the train starts to rattle past fields, forests, towns and picturesque stations, I find myself immersed in sweet sadness. I stare wistfully out the window, my face drawn, sad. But I am really happy, incredibly sentimental.

The effect must be produced by the panoramic view of the rapidly changing country. As I watch everything pass by me quickly, and feel myself being hurled forward at will, I am unconsciously conscious of the flight of time, the eternal flux, the trajectory of my own life. The timid, of course, want something "rock of the ages," something static. They want life to be more like a milling pond than a raging torrent, more like a domestic affair between a teacup and a tabby than a dangerous expedition.

Who will free me from this mortal body? My body is in chains. He is my watchman. I can do nothing without first consulting him and getting his permission. I envy his grotesqueness. I bristle at the cords that bind me. On this bully I depend for everything the world has to offer. How can I keep my affections when I have to keep tempting and seducing a tyrant with my delicate flesh and soft couches! I am proud, ambitious, and full of energy! I know that he will take me away in the end. I will follow De Quincey's example and hand the doctor over for dissection, for revenge.

"Do not desire much, fear nothing" -- that's my motto these days.

I can fully imagine looking back on these entries later and blushing the compassion of my soul exposed here. Kind readers. I have a big mistake if there are three Johns, but if John himself knows John himself, and probably John, the creator knows. Like a cowardly box office who is afraid that it will be overlooked if you do not emphasize the characteristics of the exhibit, I know that I am light, I know I am light (despite the unhealthy). Point out that you still want to be an enthusiastic fan.

Maetel Link's "Wisdom and Fate" is an extract of Marx Aurelius. I am tired of such a pleasant philosopher. If anyone is bothered by having a red cloth and a Picador, tear that person. [43 pages]

Stay at the seaside

Recently, I often live outdoors and have a sunburn. Tanning gives me infinite joy. I got drunk with the sun today. The sea is not enough to hold me, and the sky is not enough to breathe. Shake to all kinds of passion, beaten life, huge heart and muscles, lives magnificently, and has been divided into the abyss of all joy and sadness due to the hard thirst of drinking and drinking. I want to see life flashing. Oh, youth! Youth! Youth. At this ecstatic moment, my happiness becomes a torrent. At that time, I was burning in the dawn's soul. In many ways, it's rather similar to my dash. It must be my flower. It must be my flower! I'm anxy! "!

L was digging the ground of the garden today. He gently laid his back so as not to break it, and said, "Is it good?" The true happiness is a little garden work, the sound of a tea cup in the next room, and the final chapter of the book.

Maetel Link's "Wisdom and Fate" is an extract of Marx Aurelius. I am tired of such a pleasant philosopher. If anyone is bothered by having a red cloth and a Picador, tear that person. [43 pages]

Stay at the seaside

Return home. I don't want to live in such a small town. If someone dies, the person has been joking a joke the night before. Suicide involves his best friends, and otherwise he can be cut into a bookstore's small man. After returning home, three people died. I feel depressed. The town where only the corpse is rolling is like a spiritual room. If you're fat, rubbed, and lacking imagination, you're lucky. [PG 44] I can fully imagine that looking back on these entry later and blushing the compassion of my soul exposed here. Kind readers. I have a big mistake if there are three Johns, but if John himself knows John himself, and probably John, the creator knows. Like a cowardly box office who is afraid that it will be overlooked if you do not emphasize the characteristics of the exhibit, I know that I am light, I know I am light (despite the unhealthy). Point out that you still want to be an enthusiastic fan.

Stay at the seaside

Two more people died. I sat on the riverbank seat and read Journal of Animal Behaviour. I wanted to go to work. Wearing an overcoat, doing nothing like a pet pigeon, sitting in the seat, foam came out of my mouth. If your heart is weak, crossing the road is also an adventure, and every day is a dangerous exploration.

The filthy gorotsuki on the riverbank raised a tin can and told me:

"Look, Mr., it's food."

"So what do you do?

Everyone has tried to catch salmon with a bent pin. It doesn't make sense if you can't catch the salmon. Richard Jeffreies said. "Even if there is no immortality, we will be able to get the glory of that thought."

Old diary

I had a happy time reading an old diary. I knew how much I forgot, lamented, and surprised. It seems that there is no fragment of loyalty to yourself. Since I am immersed in my current sel f-sel f-self, I move into my past, that is, I moved into the temple of this body one after another, handed my life and personal identity torch, and quietly and modestly. I don't care about the dear dead gentlemen who sneaked away in the rest of the rest.

Great sunny and warm. I couldn't go against the sun, so I got on a train departing at 10 o'clock to S-, crossed the grassland (Kimpoge, forgetful grass, gurgling-rugged comic stream and ivy bridge. I was eager to read geology until 12:00. Then I took off my boots and socks, swim under the deep water under the right arch of the bridge, and then sat down on a dry stone on the top of the masonry. Next, I walked upstream and went to a large rock board that leaned to a comfortable angle. I laid it on it and put my lower limbs on my knees. The sun illuminated my face, and Tonbi chased up with murderous intention. However, I didn't even care about nature that was dyed red with teeth and nails. I enjoyed nature under the sunshine in June in the cool Big Dipper's stream. I was completely relaxed and laid on the board, and cold water flowed between the toes. You won't be miserable again. The voices of the children playing in the woods delighted me. I basically hate children. I am too young. But this morning was different. It was a fairy voice that sounded in the magical forest.

It was a beautiful sunny and warm day. We went by train to C. Woods. The heat forced us to take a first class carriage on the way back. We crossed the fields and climbed the hill to the mill gutter, where we bathed and read. We had a strong lunch and tried to catch a few caddy flies, but failed. I would have liked to examine their mouths. After lunch we sat on a footbridge over the stream, and I lay flat against the sun to rest. The sun seemed to beat down on my very bones, and to erase all darkness and menace there. The sensation of the blood flowing under my skin was delightful, and the heat made every tissue glow with a sense of euphoria. We rose and opened our eyes, and all the colour of the landscape was lost under the silvery white of the intense sunlight.

We put on our boots and stockings (our feet seemed very large and swollen) and strolled downriver to the little white house, the Gambler's Cottage. There was the China Dock, of course, with an old painting on the wall of a page-boy (she said) who had once been employed in the squire's house. There was an unsanitary air of pigs in the garden, which I will not mention, as it is not pretty.

A beautiful sunny day. Took an early train to S--. Walked to the ivy bridge, then swam upstream to a large slab of rock. This experiment was very pleasant, and worth repeating a hundred times. In this position I read about the decline and fall of trilobites, and about lias stratigraphy. Geology is a very difficult subject, but I enjoyed going with the other flies this morning.

Practical exam, University of Liverpool. Zoology, Board of Education.

Towards the end, the other students left but I carried on. Professor Hardman asked me if I was done. I said no. Then he came back and I said no again but he said maybe we should stop now. He picked up a plate of plankton and said, "What more can you do?" I pointed to the sagitta, the ocelot and the noctiluca. He complimented me on my paper that I had sent him a few weeks ago and added after looking at my work.

I thanked him from the bottom of my heart, greedy and grateful. [I replied proudly that I had no career in zoology, of course.]

"But what school or university have you worked at?"

"No," I said, a little stubbornly. "What I know is self-taught."

"You have no training in zoology at all?"

"Well done, if you've studied it yourself."

He was still a little incredulous, and when I explained that I get a lot of marine life from the Plymouth Marine Laboratory for dissection and study, he asked me suspiciously if I'd ever worked there. We shook hands, he wished me success in the future, and I reverently replied, Amen.

And then I went home, elated that I'd finally managed to impress someone.

Economic biology may be very useful, but it does not interest me. Teach me pure science. I do not want to rack my brains over the cure for potato diseases or poultry fleas. I do not want to be a council lecturer or a government entomologist! [1]. Give me the retired life of a scholar or researcher, full of leisure, culture, and delicate techniques. I would rather know Bergson than stay at the Ritz. I would rather be able to dissect the underwater vascular system of a starfish than know the price of a console. Five thousand pounds a year and a deer farm would make me an industrious country gentleman. My idea is to withdraw from the traveling Vargas and spend my days toiling in libraries and laboratories. The world is too much for us. I long for the monotony of monastic life! Father Wassmann and Abbot Spallanzani are of this type. Let us look at them. Such a life is poor material for novelists and dramatists, but all the better for it. Hamlet is good reading, but I do not want to be Hamlet myself. In the afternoon I went out dredging at 15 hiro off the I-- pier, but without much success. But I caught many interesting things in my tow net, including loligo eggs and Tomopteris.

"I don't know anything about this," he desperately said.

I am a candidate for the Dublin exams, but I have had to ask to decline. In my present health I cannot undertake such a journey. My chances of success are not good enough to make my father ask for money. I fear he is still ill, and secretly upset because I insist on giving up his job. But the newspaper man seems to be my destiny. Having to write is the height of torture.

I got a letter from Mr S that had me in tears from the memorial.

I spent the whole day sitting like a chamberlain in the park, getting some fresh air. Who cares? "But you will hear [Pg 49]

Unexpectedly, I was expected to take the second exam for the two vacant seats at the British Museum. This is lucky.

It was very hot, so I went to S and bathed in Thermpour. He stretched out in the water and was pleased that he had finally come to the middle of the countryside. Not just looking from outside the embankment. It was soaked in the water to the bottom. At that time, the British Museum and Animal were good. I have overcome everything, except for the last enemy and the subject of conquest. At that moment, I became immortal!

At 4:00 pm, bathed at the salmon pool. 87. 3 degrees in the shade. The meadow was tasty lit by sunlight. I wanted to jump, fluffy my tail, and sing. I wondered if there was such a wise bird with such a shine!

I went to C-on the afternoon train, but unfortunately forgot to bring a clock and a tube (for insects). The station manager is a signal clerk, a porter, and a ticket collection clerk. I agree with him to be called three times from the viaduct just before the evening train arrived. Then I went to the gutter, set up a mosslin net, repelled insects, and bathed over the Ogawa. After that, he returned to a small station with the insects caught in a box. The walls and roofs grew on the ivy, all of which were as fun and quiet as before, and the young people at the station were as fun and stupid. And a small train turned on a green engine, a red passenger car, and a colored track like a crawling caterpillar.

A trapper killed a specimen of Tropidonotus Natrix and brought it to me. I will give him six pences and to dissect them in the future. This morning, unexpectedly, I received the second test for the two vacant seats at the British Museum. This is lucky.

A trapper killed a specimen of Tropidonotus Natrix and brought it to me. I will give him six pences and to dissect them in the future. Unexpectedly, I was unexpectedly recommended for the two vacant seats at the British Museum. This is lucky.

A trapper killed a specimen of Tropidonotus Natrix and brought it to me. I will give him six pences and to dissect them in the future.

1913

There are people who are oblivious to anything. (Like Major McWhir in Conrad's Typhoon) They live side by side with genius and tragedy, with the innocence of a baby. When the stars fall and the moon turns to blood, someone has to pay attention to it. After all, the most obvious things are the hardest to see. We all know Keats, but if he was only the "boy next door", why should we read his poems?

Beginning

I prepared the skull of a grass snake, as if to settle an old grudge against the beast's behavior in the Garden of Eden, on behalf of suffering humanity.

September 5th

At 2:30, my father was struck by paralysis three times within a few minutes. I called him, who was reading a book in the library, and I hurried home. As soon as my mother and I entered the bedroom, he had another attack, and with my mother's help, I managed to get him from the chair to the bed. He struggled with his left arm and leg, and made inaudible moans. I don't know if he was in pain. Dear Mother

September 14th.

8. 30. The nurse says he will not live past night.

8. 45. Sends a telegram to A-- to come.

11. 00. A-- comes downstairs and has a little dinner.

12. 00. Got to bed. H. and the others lit a fire, and we sat round it, listening in silence to the noise. Everybody felt cold. Father was unconscious for over an hour.

1. 45 a. m. There was a noise, and I heard mother coming downstairs, sobbing, from behind my bedroom door. I thought it must be over now. H. was helping my mother. I waited in the bedroom in the dark for about an hour and a half, when H. came up, opened the door slowly, and said: I felt a tremendous sense of relief to think that his suffering and cruel plight was over, since he had to die. I slept exhausted, and slept soundly.

September 18th.

The funeral. It is not death that is depressing, but the terrible possibilities of life. [2]

September 21st.

An autumn day

Autumn day when a cool breeze blows. The beach was covered with soa p-like foam and was swaying in the wind. The rocks were all wet in the water, and the splashes were rising like steam from the crushed waves. The red sun was getting lower and lower, and the shadow of the rock dropped was very long and grotesque. Under the crushed waves, there was a dark and dark depression like a sea cave. The seagull was blown by the wind while balancing in the air, suddenly cut the wind and descended. We all sitting down on the rocks, very quietly, and almost like one word. He pointed at the passing ship and thrown gravel into the sea. It may be said that it was boring. However, we were excited at the bottom of our hearts, and from the surroundings, we heard a soft, mysterious, mysterious route, like a bird walking in the dark.

The wind becomes stronger and hits the flag of the coast guard. The wind stripped my hair and continued to growl at my ears. On the way back, the wind went back and forth like a crazy snake on a long grass. It's the wind! Oh, the wind! I have great trust in the healing power of the wind. I feel better.

October 17th

Stay in Sally. The exam is over and I am quite confident. Until a few days ago, I had a cold and suffered and missed my last chance.

Legitimate alms

October 24th

A personality A autumn day when a cool breeze blows. The beach was covered with soa p-like foam and was swaying in the wind. The rocks were all wet in the water, and the splashes were rising like steam from the crushed waves. The red sun was getting lower and lower, and the shadow of the rock dropped was very long and grotesque. Under the crushed waves, there was a dark and dark depression like a sea cave. The seagull was blown by the wind while balancing in the air, suddenly cut the wind and descended. We all sitting down on the rocks, very quietly, and almost like one word. He pointed at the passing ship and thrown gravel into the sea. It may be said that it was boring. However, we were excited at the bottom of our hearts, and from the surroundings, we heard a soft, mysterious, mysterious route, like a bird walking in the dark.

October 17th

Stay in Sally. The exam is over and I am quite confident. Until a few days ago, I had a cold and suffered and missed my last chance.

Legitimate alms

When I was sitting on the N. Downs gate, I saw a man standing in a chalk hole and swinging a stick strongly in a valley far below. For some reason, I came up with the idea that if he was killing snake, it would be interesting. At the dinner seat tonight, the revised story was announced in a very natural way, which was clearly interested in the participants. I added that what kind of snake he was killing was too far away from me. I have an artistic liar qualification. However, this story cannot be regarded as a lie. Rather, it was the adaptation to justify the uninterested events.

October 24th

October 17th

Stay in Sally. The exam is over and I am quite confident. Until a few days ago, I had a cold and suffered and missed my last chance.

Legitimate alms

October 24th

One character

She is a small old lady, very weak, very delicate, has a small voice like FLET'SSaw. She talks about things she is not interested in, so when she tries to make a polite smile, her face is stiff, and when she says "yes" or "Is it so?" 。

Tonight, I will attend the animal society and read the first dissertation, so I'm really upset and I want to be quiet. So I wrote two urgent letters so that she wouldn't talk. I was desperate at 6:15, so I took a walk in the dark London city. Return to dinner and go to her. After my wife, my husband is an intelligent fireworks teacher. See the museum.

He asked, "If you are not there, you might say to study with yourself, do you think you have any insects?"

6. 40. One hour before I went to the meeting, she sighed, coughed, smoked, or read a newspaper, she was the same. She refuses to scan the row under the photo of the illustration rated London News. I wrote this as the last way to escape from her catastrophic chatting and a small boy o-like heart. She thinks she is preparing a note of the night meeting (because I said so). . She is a small old lady, very weak, very delicate, and has a small voice like FLETSSaw. She talks about things she is not interested in, so when she tries to make a polite smile, her face is stiff, and when she says "yes" or "Is it so?" 。

He asked, "If you are not there, you might say to study with yourself, do you think you have any insects?"

6. 40. One hour before I went to the meeting, she sighed, coughed, smoked, or read a newspaper, she was the same. She refuses to scan the row under the photo of the illustration rated London News. I wrote this as the last way to escape from her catastrophic chatting and a small boy o-like heart. She thinks she is preparing a note of the night meeting (because I said so). She is a small old lady, very weak, very delicate, has a small voice like FLET'SSaw. She talks about things she is not interested in, so when she tries to make a polite smile, her face is stiff, and when she says "yes" or "Is it so?" 。

He asked, "If you are not there, you might say to study with yourself, do you think you have any insects?"

Epilogue: I had a horrible day. I was fed up, tired, bored, and ecstatic at the sound of her voice, which she never shared with anyone except her husband, an intellectual giant, at teatime. To break up the flow of chatter, I rudely butted in. But this bored me. When I cut in, she still spoke a few sentences, and I couldn't stop her. But I persisted. Once she started, I was afraid to stop, afraid that the voice would start again. After a while, my artificial well of chatter dried up, and the Voice leapt into the gap. At seven o'clock, quite exhausted, I sat on the other side of the hearth, staring blankly, arms hanging at my sides, mouth drooping. At five minutes past seven, she started coughing so hard that I had to stop. With a mischievous smile, I pushed my chair back and watched her cough in silence. She was coughing now, and on and on. Good! At 8pm I left for the meeting and read my paper under great nervousness. I read everything I had to say and entertained them for about 10 minutes. I was very excited.

October 30th

I went home again. I was very impressed with the Natural History Museum. It is a magnificent building, but it is too magnificent to work there. It seems a completely too grandiose way of life to pursue one's profession in such a building. A devout zoologist could pray there, but not earn a living.

October 31st

I was ranked first with 141 points. After 7:00 am, M (servant) ran to her sister's bedroom with that news, and my sister said, "Okay, good, good," and descended to my bedroom together. We talked while drinking tea! I am overjoyed. What a stunning obstacle competition! There is still one groove! Connect with a friend

November 1st

I love w, Needless to say, how happy we were in the big news this morning. You must be aware that your goals have been achieved after overcoming countless difficulties, and you must feel great satisfaction. I don't want to compliment to you, I don't want to praise you, but to be honest, I'm the most proud of old Vino. I praise not only your brain, but also indomitable spirit and guts, and the quiet courage to disappointment and difficulties. "

November 14th

Among the scientific books I've read so far, the most attractive books (in a nutshell) -1. 1. Darwin's emotional expression. 2. Gaskel's "Source of vertebrate". 3. Bergson's "emotion".

I went to the dentist in the afternoon. I mainly read "Le Reel" at night. In my Hardome, this book is extraordinary and interesting!

November 29th

I'm always looking for a new friend. There is no fun adventure to explore rich and multifaceted personality. In return, you let him steal his own fragments one after another, probably leave a little here and there, probably like Francis Thompson's poetry. It's a fun interaction.

I dream of the ease of the honey on a civil servant's working day (Peacock). But the French people say, Songes Sont Mensonges.

December 13th.

The park was very dark.

"If you lose you, you won't know how to return."

"I said.

At that time, lucky things happened. It began to rain. So I offered a part of the overcoat. She sneaked under my arm and kissed from my hand. Look! A very cute girl.

December 20 I was ranked first with 141 points. After 7:00 am, M (servant) ran to her sister's bedroom with that news, and my sister said, "Okay, good, good," and descended to my bedroom together. We talked while drinking tea! I am overjoyed. What a stunning obstacle competition! There is still one groove! Connect with a friend

November 1st

November 14th

Among the scientific books I've read so far, the most attractive books (in a nutshell) -1. 1. Darwin's emotional expression. 2. Gaskel's "Source of vertebrate". 3. Bergson's "emotion".

I went to the dentist in the afternoon. I mainly read "Le Reel" at night. In my Hardome, this book is extraordinary and interesting!

November 29th

I dream of the ease of the honey on a civil servant's working day (Peacock). But the French people say, Songes Sont Mensonges.

December 13th.

The park was very dark.

"If you lose you, you won't know how to return."

"I said.

At that time, lucky things happened. It began to rain. So I offered a part of the overcoat. She sneaked under my arm and kissed from my hand. Look! A very cute girl.

December 20, I was ranked first with 141 points. After 7:00 am, M (servant) ran to her sister's bedroom with that news, and my sister said, "Okay, good, good," and descended to my bedroom together. We talked while drinking tea! I am overjoyed. What a stunning obstacle competition! There is still one groove! Connect with a friend

November 1st

November 14th

Among the scientific books I've read so far, the most attractive books (in a nutshell) -1. 1. Darwin's emotional expression. 2. Gaskel's "Source of vertebrate". 3. Bergson's "emotion".

I went to the dentist in the afternoon. I mainly read "Le Reel" at night. In my Hardome, this book is extraordinary and interesting!

November 29th

I dream of the ease of the honey on a civil servant's working day (Peacock). But the French people say, Songes Sont Mensonges.

December 13th.

The park was very dark.

"If you lose you, you won't know how to return."

"I said.

At that time, lucky things happened. It began to rain. So I offered a part of the overcoat. She sneaked under my arm and kissed from my hand. Look! A very cute girl.

December 20th

This has been bothering me. After an early dinner, I called, and my lady was ready to receive me. There was no one at home. I went into the oak-paneled room with the red-curtained windows, took off my coat and scarf, my mistress followed, and put out the light. There was a roaring fire in the grate. She was very amiable, and I am no Hippolytus, so we soon sat down in big chairs before the fire and became intimate. And so we sailed together in harmony, cutting the wind, while she shivered in the storm (and I was at the helm). Then I heard the sound of a key turning and footsteps down the corridor: " she said.

She turned on the light, walked quickly out into the corridor, and ushered him into her office. I walked just as quickly, donned my overcoat and scarf, and slipped out the open door. Later she called to say she was OK. I was so relieved. She reminded me of Richepin's La Goulue.

December 21.

She is a wonderful sedative. Her movements are a soothing adagio, her voice is pianissimo from the piano, and her conversation is interrupted by thrilling apostrophes.

This morning was a terrible comedy. As soon as I was firmly "gagged", the dentist left the room. She came over, glared at me helpless, and said tauntingly: "Minx. When the dentist returned, he told her.

She said, "Oh, not now."

Then they both grinned at each other and at me, waiting to be tortured.

December 23rd.

. I waited an hour at the station for the train. I gave her a box of sweets and a bystander. We walked to the end of the platform in the dark and kissed! But it was windy and cold, so we got into an empty luggage van that the shutters had left on the rails next to the platform. There was no wind here, and it was much better. But the chanter came and kicked us out. She gave me a silver matchbox, but for various reasons I think it was hers and not a new one. "Goodbye," I said.

December 28th

At R. I played the lazy flâneur, leaning on my chesterfield, leaning on the grand piano, measuring myself on the mat in front of the fire.

December 31st

Tomorrow I begin work at the British Museum of Natural History. I can hardly imagine myself as a museum assistant. Before I get there I know I will be the strangest assistant [Pg 58] on the staff. I will sing my songs in strange lands and shed tears by the strange waters of Babylon.

But I have burned bridges like Keasal and ships like Cortez. See you soon!

[1] See entry of 8 October 1913.

[2] Italics added in 1917.

[3] The paper is "Teleotropy in Batrachians" - a detailed description of experiments on the homing ability of newts. [Page 59]

Part I - London

January 21.

I am reminded of the words of Bernard Shaw, "Get what you like, or you'll like what you get." I seriously suspect that my tenure here is like the lion's den in the fable "Nulla vestiga retrorsum". Of course, I am wonderfully proud to be in this museum, but I am disappointed and write as if I am quite carefree.

January 25

I would be disappointed if at the end of my career (if I live to the end) I did not receive the F. R. S. My character is very complex, above all ambitious, yet quickly dizzy with the audacity of my aspirations. B. M. s and colleagues practically make me feel most inferior, but in theory, within the confines of my bedroom, I feel that few men are my equal.

Down with the flu. Lodging with the flu!

With beef jelly in one pocket and volatile salts in the other, I went home to recuperate. When I got home, my mothers were frightened by my pale appearance, and I went to bed immediately. "Fate is the fiddler, life is the dance."

I am weak enough to sit at the dressing-table while I am shaved and combed. I have terrible indigestion. The doctor at Kensington thought I was a terrible wreck, and asked me if I was hiding anything....

Reading Baudelaire and Verlaine.

I sat on a seat overlooking the dunes, with a stick between my legs like an old man, and watched a buxom maid run down the path, pursued by "Ruff" and two blue girls. 25 Then they emerged from a striped bathing tent in blue bathing dresses. I felt quite old when I saw the girl, with a child in each hand, run out over the hard, flat sand to the breakers. My legs and arms twinkled in the blazing sun. If only life was as flat as that beach and as beautiful as that trio of girls!

Two young men are talking

With H. in the garden. He is a great horticulturalist.

"I do not approve of your gardening taste at all," I said. You are against the "ragged heath" style, but I like it. You like the lawns laid for croquet, and the hedges pruned to "God Save the King" and "Let the King Die," I said. My dear boy, if you saw Mr. ---'s heath, you would be shocked and run away, and have a touching reunion with your beloved geraniums. As for me, I do not like geranium flowers. Moreover, the color of your specimen is vulgar, like the muddy petticoats of an old market woman."

H. answered slowly, not at all shaken. You have no taste for flowers. We laughed.

"Stop watering them," I cried. But he went on. I cried out again, and in my ridiculousness he went on watering the cabbages, the gravel, the oak tree, and me! I writhed with laughter.

As I sat on the comfortable rock pier, gazing out at the waves, no thoughts entered my head. Instead, thoughts like tiny dead leaves flitted through my mind. I remembered, for example, the pimples on my aunt's nose, the boyishness of the doctor's handwriting, and Swinburne's lines: "If the wren were a nightingale... something that a man sees or hears might be half as sweet as the laughter of a seven-year-old."

I stayed in this pleasure all afternoon.

Back in London, back at B. M. My first day at M. I sat at table in a terrible state of lethargy.

I am, at least temporarily, disillusioned with zoology. I work in the insect room!

Things I bought on the way back

Hydrogen peroxide (risk of bleeding pus). A bottle of laxative (for the terrible indigestion).

A flask of brandy (for the heart is again intermittent).

Next is pulsic acid.

R-- must have nearly given me pneumonia. My aunt was nervous and came to check on me in the middle of the night.

Two young men talking

With H. in the garden. He is a great horticulturalist.

"I do not approve of your gardening taste at all," I said.

You are against the "ragged moor" style, but I do.

You like the lawn laid out for croquet, and the hedges pruned to "God Save the King" and "The King and Death," I said.

My dear boy, if you saw Mr. ---'s moor, you would be shocked and run away, and have a touching reunion with your beloved geraniums.

For my part, I do not like geranium flowers. Moreover, the colour of your specimen is vulgar, like the muddy petticoats of an old market-woman."

H. answered slowly, completely unfazed. You have no taste for flowers. We burst out in laughter.

"Stop watering them," I cried. But he went on. I cried again, and, in my ridiculousness, he went on watering the cabbages, the gravel, the oaks, and me! I writhed with laughter.

As I sat on the comfortable rock pier, gazing at the waves, no thought entered my mind. Instead, thoughts like tiny dead leaves flitted through my mind. I remembered, for example, the pimples on my aunt's nose, the boyishness of the doctor's handwriting, and Swinburne's lines: "If the wren were a nightingale... something a man sees and hears may be half as sweet as the laughter of a child of seven."

I spent the whole afternoon in this pleasure.

Back in London, back at B. M. My first day at M. I sat at the table in a terrible state of lethargy.

I am, at least temporarily, disillusioned with zoology. I am working in the insect room!

What I bought on the way back

Hydrogen peroxide (for fear of purulent bleeding).

A bottle of laxative (for the terrible indigestion).

A flask of brandy (because my heart is again intermittent).

Next, pulsic acid.

R-- must have nearly given me pneumonia. My aunt is nervous, and came to check on me in the middle of the night.

Two young men talking

With H. in the garden. He is a great horticulturalist.

"I do not at all approve of your gardening taste," I said.

You are against the "ragged heath" style, but I like it.

You like lawns mulched for croquet, and hedges pruned to God Save the King and to Death," I said. My dear boy, if you saw Mr. ---'s wilderness, you would be shocked and run away, and have a touching reunion with your beloved geranium. For my part, I do not like geranium flowers. Moreover, the colour of your specimen is vulgar, like the muddy petticoats of an old market woman."

H. answered slowly, completely unfazed. You have no taste for flowers. We burst out laughing.

"Stop watering them," I cried. But he went on. I cried again, and in my ridiculousness he went on watering the cabbages, the gravel path, the oak tree, and me! I writhed with laughter.

As I sat on the comfortable rock pier, gazing at the waves, no thought entered my head. Instead, thoughts like tiny dead leaves flitted through my mind. I remembered, for example, the pimples on my aunt's nose, the boyishness of the doctor's handwriting, and Swinburne's lines: "If the wren were a nightingale.... something man sees or hears may be half as sweet as the laughter of a child of seven."

I spent the whole afternoon in this pleasure.

I returned to London and returned to B. M. My first day at M. I sat at table in a terrible state of lethargy.

I was disillusioned, at least temporarily, with zoology. I was working in the insect room!

What I bought on the way back

Hydrogen peroxide (for fear of purulent bleeding).

A bottle of laxative (for terrible indigestion).

A flask of brandy (because my heart was beating intermittently again).

Next, pulsic acid.

I must have almost caught pneumonia from the R--. My aunt was nervous and came to check on me in the middle of the night.

When I got home this evening, I was distressed to find my article, returned from Fortnight, lying in a large envelope on the table. It prevented me from working, and in desperation I rushed to the stately leisure dome of the White City, where I systematically experienced every thrill, from the mountain railway to the Wiggle-Woggle, and the "Witch Wave."

Today I am at ease. The cut worm forgives the spade. But how unsettled this disappointment has made me. With no scheduled recuperation, I cannot work calmly.

On the recommendation of my doctor, I was consulted by Dr. P--, a lung specialist. M. found a dull stain in one of my lungs, but was not very sure, and without telling me his suspicion, arranged for Dr. P-- to see me, and, as my indigestion was severe, led me to believe that he was an authority on the stomach.

But my lungs and constitution were such that consumption could easily occur. As soon as Dr. P-- had left, M-- told me this boring story:

Whenever I catch a cold, I have to go to the hospital and get treated. I have to spend all my leisure time outdoors, consume a lot of cream and milk, and get fat at all costs. I may even have to give up work.

The image of a young but fat woman basking in the sun and oozing water is a mean one, like something from Baudelaire.

A brilliant career

My former headmaster predicted a "brilliant career" for me. It was when I was in the third form. Now, as he once pointed out, I can grow from a brilliant boyhood into a very ordinary person. This continued ill-health has a clear effect on my work and activities. I must bravely face the fact that I can no longer think and express the same way as I did as a teenager!

But I intend to go on. My death will be fought for.

Oh, it is humiliating to die! I shudder to think that I should be vanquished by so unjust an enemy before I have proved myself to the maiden aunts who distrust me, to the colleagues who despise me, and even to the brothers and sisters who believe in me.

He writes an essay about the history of insects, but gives up on writing about how to spend the cat time.

Most people comfort the bad reputation of their death when they are sick until they die. Criminal enjoys the gorgeousness and situation of the execution. Voltail said Rousseau, "If you put your name on the prison, you can be hanged." But my own death would be too low and would not be enough. " G i-de Morpassan died of a fierce death. While having intelligence and stunning body, I became abnormal. The death of Toshitara in the South Sea is like a romance. Vespasian died joking.

In the West Kenzington dormitory, an insecticist with a strong, disappointing, sick, and sel f-asserted insect scholar days lightly! I don't want to be someone even if I die.

Tonight, we sang songs between guests, and all the dormitors were all together. German Schulz sat down and glared at his lover, a small girl with a sensual face, and read the dagger and moonlight with the most basis [PG 64] He boasts that he played the walkin g-on part at a theater). Miss M was listening to her fiancee Captain O (returned from India) singing a song of Indian love. Mrs. Berkeley Woods pursues the usual hobby of imposing our huge social superiority, and in the meantime, sitting in the middle of Covent Garden Opera's "common" musician. He was 18 or 1 9-yea r-old fluffy girls, talking to one chick. We were a pathetic small friend, miscellaneous, poor, and not gathered for love or consideration, but human beings gathered because they were flocked animals. In fact, we were secretly criticizing and criticizing each other. However, there were millions of unknown people outside, and countless stars spread overhead.

After that: Animal sometimes burns my ambition! I'm sure I will not die yet. Most people comfort the bad reputation of their death when they are sick until they are dead. Criminal enjoys the gorgeousness and situation of the execution. Voltail said Rousseau, "If you put your name on the prison, you can be hanged." But my own death would be too low and would not be enough. " G i-de Maupassan died of a fierce death. While having intelligence and stunning body, I became abnormal. The death of Toshitara in the South Sea is like a romance. Vespasian died joking.

After that: Animal sometimes burns my ambition! I'm sure I will not die yet. Most people comfort the bad reputation of their death when they are sick until they die. Criminal enjoys the gorgeousness and situation of the execution. Voltail said Rousseau, "If you put your name on the prison, you can be hanged." But my own death would be too low and would not be enough. " G i-de Morpassan died of a fierce death. While having intelligence and stunning body, I became abnormal. The death of Toshitara in the South Sea is like a romance. Vespasian died joking.

With H. in the garden. He is a great horticulturalist.

Tonight, we sang songs between guests, and all the dormitors were all together. German Schulz sat down and glared at his lover, a small girl with a sensual face, and read the dagger and moonlight with the most basis [PG 64] He boasts that he played the walkin g-on part at a theater). Miss M was listening to her fiancee Captain O (returned from India) singing a song of Indian love. Mrs. Berkeley Woods pursues the usual hobby of imposing our huge social superiority, and in the meantime, sitting in the middle of Covent Garden Opera's "common" musician. He was 18 or 1 9-yea r-old fluffy girls, talking to one chick. We were a pathetic small friend, a miscellaneous, bad, and not gathered for love or consideration, but because humans were flocked animals. In fact, we were secretly criticizing and criticizing each other. However, there were millions of unknown people outside, and countless stars spread overhead.

After that: Animal sometimes burns my ambition! I'm sure I will not die yet.

No matter what misfortune you get to me, I want to face without succumbing to it. I'm not afraid of unhealthy, but I'm afraid of it on my heart and personality. I'm already changing little by little as the Lord is alive. For example, my sympathy for myself is already down.

When you are hit, you must respond to some kind of reaction. Heine burned up to the song. Beethoven wrote Symphony No. 5. So what should I do if my time comes? I don't think I have the lyrics or symphony to write, so I would have to laugh and endure like a stupid animal. As long as you have energy and buoyancy, you don't care about anything. The only real failure is that the victims are losing their energy, stunning, depressed, dyed black around, and in the heart that the knife is slowly and relentlessly cut the thread. [65]

In my head, I am swirling with the floods of various things that are conflicted, conflicting, desperate ideas, and blanks on paper. I am born in this world, run around this world, and die. I am on a big hill and want to solve the problem.

After the tea, we three walked in Kenzington Gardens and sat on the circular pond. My umbrella fell on the ground and kept my nose protruding with a cynical feel.

"I'm not ironic," I said. Does your umbrella fall with this umbrella? Your umbrella is a lady and it looks good, so you may flirt together. "

"I don't want to be flirting," she answered hard.

September 13th.

In C-, a small small village along the sea of N-. I want to stand without succumbing to any misfortune. I'm not afraid of unhealthy, but I'm afraid of it on my heart and personality. I'm already changing little by little as the Lord is alive. For example, my sympathy for myself is already down.

"I'm not ironic," I said. Does your umbrella fall with this umbrella? Your umbrella is a lady and it looks good, so you may flirt together. "

"I don't want to be flirting," she answered hard.

September 13th.

Anatomy one of the sea lines. Like a sea urchin, it has a series of liver tubes running in the gastrointestinal tract.

When you are hit, you must respond to some kind of reaction. Heine burned up to the song. Beethoven wrote Symphony No. 5. So what should I do if my time comes? I don't think I have the lyrics or symphony to write, so I would have to laugh and endure like a stupid animal. As long as you have energy and buoyancy, you don't care what happens. The only real failure is that the victims are losing their energy, stunning, depressed, dyed black around, and in the heart that the knife is slowly and relentlessly cut the thread. [65]

After the tea, we three walked in Kenzington Gardens and sat on the circular pond. My umbrella fell on the ground and kept my nose protruding with a cynical feel.

"I'm not ironic," I said. Does your umbrella fall with this umbrella? Your umbrella is a lady and it looks good, so you may flirt together. "

"I don't want to be flirting," she answered hard.

September 13th.

In C-, a small small village along the sea of N-.

I looked up from the rocks where I had been watching the gobies, and saw three children running across the beach to bathe. The water roared, the mare neighed, the children called to each other, and I turned again to the rocks, heart racing with happiness. The picture was so beautiful that I did not want to blow on it and damage it. I decided not to indulge myself. [Pg 66]

September 16th.

Dredging echinoderms in the bay with "Carrot". Beautiful clear weather. The catch was unsuccessful, but I was in a boat under a cloudless sky, on a waveless sea, so I was not going to let it get me down! The dredger roared on the bottom all the time, and I and "Carrot" lay listless on the bow. I was so happy. My mercury was definitely ringing.

So who was "Carrot"? He is a fine, strong sailor who leaps over rocks like a gamecock, swims like a fish, pulls like an ox, and snorts like a grampus.

September 18

Early Bogie

October 23rd.

The following strange conversation took place between the 76-year-old deaf-mute man standing in the apple tree and me:

"These are all apples from Kent."

"How long have you lived in C--?"

"We're a firm called Bunyard & Son, and we live on the outskirts of Maidstone."

"Do you keep bees here?

"One of these bees is called Banyard, after the name of the company. "

"It produces fine berries." [Page 67]

"Your good wife must help your work a lot."

"It may be a small stem, but it is a big juicy fruit."

At that time, I heard Mrs. B told E:

"I'm fine at the age of 76. I'm a little far away, but I do all the gardens, and I will give you meat and drinks little by little. There is one big tree now, but most of it is. Please wither. "

She picked the apple from the tree and shouted to the pathetic Tom still above.

"Tom ...... What is this apple name?

"You should have come a little earlier, you," said T.

She was a dear woman and gave me squid. What a cheerful child!

"Yes, yes, let's give one woman for taking it home.

"What is the name? When Mrs. Mrs. Tom, she answered without moving at all while folding her bones slowly from the tree.

"Name? Oh, a name?" Why, a kind of common apple.

"Don't worry, Glad Stone.

"It's a very good Apple," said the old man.

The results came in. As expected, there were only three places and I came in fourth.

I returned to the city again. In the afternoon, I walked around like a dream deaf until I had tea in the queue garden. I enjoyed the wind hitting my face and hair. Other than that, it was a day without color.

October 10th.

I saw the following impressive sentences: "I have a bad complexion, lethargic, a corpse, my teeth are poor, I have a poor digestive, sick pride, but my teeth are not bad. [Page 68]

October 20th.

In the North Downs

Under the oak I was sitting was covered with dead leaves. I kicked the dead leaves and hit them with a stick. In the miscellaneous forest, the leaves were quiet and magnificent, and the gorgeousness of death. It was very thrilling to observe it.

It was a strange feeling that I sitting under the old orc, I went to the north of England, then down to the southwest, and returned to the town of London again. I boasted my athletic ability to the stopped oak and mocked Old Hill, who had to stay in the same place. "Your good wife must help your work a lot"

February 17th

At that time, I heard Mrs. B told E:

"I don't know anything about this," he desperately said.

She picked the apple from the tree and shouted to the pathetic Tom still above.

"Tom ...... What is this apple name?

"No, I want to know the name," the spouse shouted.

"Yes, yes, let's give one woman for taking it home.

"What is the name? When Mrs. Mrs. Tom, she answered without moving at all while folding her bones slowly from the tree.

"Name? Oh, a name?" Why, a kind of common apple.

Part 1-The diary begins when the author is a little past 13 years old.

"It's a very good Apple," said the old man.

September 28

1914

October 10th.

I saw the following impressive sentences: "I have a bad complexion, lethargic, a corpse, my teeth are poor, I have a poor digestive, sick pride, but my teeth are not bad. [Page 68]

October 20th.

In the North Downs

Under the oak I was sitting was covered with dead leaves. I kicked the dead leaves and hit them with a stick. In the miscellaneous forest, the leaves were quiet and magnificent, with the gorgeousness of death. It was very thrilling to observe it.

"It may be a small stem, but it is a big juicy fruit."

At that time, I heard Mrs. B told E:

"I'm fine at the age of 76. I'm a little far away, but I do all the gardens, and I will give you meat and drinks little by little. There is one big tree now, but most of it is. Please wither. "

October 17th

"Tom ...... What is this apple name?

"You should have come a little earlier, you," said T.

"No, I want to know the name," the spouse shouted.

"Yes, yes, let's give one woman for taking it home.

"What is the name? When Mrs. Mrs. Tom, she answered without moving at all while folding her bones slowly from the tree.

"Name? Oh, a name?" Why, a kind of common apple.

"Don't worry, Glad Stone.

"It's a very good Apple," said the old man.

September 28

October 10th.

I saw the following impressive sentences: "I have a bad complexion, lethargic, a corpse, my teeth are poor, I have a poor digestive, sick pride, but my teeth are not bad. [Page 68]

October 20th.

In the North Downs

Returning and sitting in the same old seats under the same old orcs as before, it made me feel infinite superiority. Even those old hurdles were lying between bracken. How disappointing I was! Poor ... I can't go to the whitby or go to C ....., and I don't know the great country of London at all.

I was dreaming. My own life, which is unfolding every day, is always a source of surprise, joy and suffering. Nothing is as interesting as the details of my own life, close and psychological history. At least I want to understand myself perfectly.

We are all egoist, and sadness and hardship will increase sel f-importance if it is enough. I feel that I am more outstanding than others by being affected by the disaster. People don't want to be ignored even in railway accidents. People who are dissatisfied are always happy.

October 23rd

I went to see e ---. I was disillusioned and came back.

October 25th.

I met a very bewitching girlfriend at Smith's bookstore. I thought it was over. I went home with her and saw her in the kitchen to make a pudding. It was delicious (not dinner).

October 27th

Fight with D! The atmosphere of the apartment has changed completely. D says I am a loose man. I've always devised him to give him that kind of impression!

November 1st.

D came and took me to the apartment. So they asked why I didn't come. Of course, I was delighted.

November 6th.

Doctor M is very depressed about my health and is talking about South Africa and Labrador. I have not responded to his treatment as expected.

November 11th

I met her on Kenzington Road tonight. "The timing was good." She said. Yeah, I'm going to get involved. After returning to her flat with her, after dinner, she called her the "Sharot Woman."

"I don't know what you're saying," he said hard.

"Maybe so." I'll leave it to you. "

"She said.

Am I in love? Only God knows, but God will not care.

November 15 Returning, everything was the same as before, sitting in the same old seats under the same old oak, made me feel infinite superiority. Even those old hurdles were lying between bracken. How disappointing I was! Poor ... I can't go to the whitby or go to C ....., and I don't know the great country of London at all.

October 23rd

I went to see e ---. I was disillusioned and came back.

October 25th.

I met a very bewitching girlfriend at Smith's bookstore. I thought it was over. I went home with her and saw her in the kitchen to make a pudding. It was delicious (not dinner).

October 27th

Fight with D! The atmosphere of the apartment has changed completely. D says I am a loose man. I've always devised him to give him that kind of impression!

November 1st.

D came and took me to the apartment. So they asked why I didn't come. Of course, I was delighted.

November 6th.

Doctor M is very depressed about my health and is talking about South Africa and Labrador. I have not responded to his treatment as expected.

November 11th

I met her on Kenzington Road tonight. "The timing was good." She said. Yeah, I'm going to get involved. After returning to her flat with her, after dinner, she called her the "Sharot Woman."

"I don't know what you're saying," he said hard.

"Maybe so." I'll leave it to you. "

"She said.

Am I in love? Only God knows, but God will not care.

Returning on November 15, watching everything was the same as before, sitting in the same old seat under the same old oak made me feel infinite superb. Even those old hurdles were lying between bracken. How disappointing I was! Poor ... I can't go to the whitby or go to C ....., and I don't know the great country of London at all.

October 23rd

I went to see e ---. I was disillusioned and came back.

October 25th.

I met a very bewitching girlfriend at Smith's bookstore. I thought it was over. I went home with her and saw her in the kitchen to make a pudding. It was delicious (not dinner).

October 27th

Fight with D! The atmosphere of the apartment has changed completely. D says I am a loose man. I've always devised him to give him that kind of impression!

November 1st.

D came and took me to the apartment. So they asked why I didn't come. Of course, I was delighted.

November 6th.

Doctor M is very depressed about my health and is talking about South Africa and Labrador. I have not responded to his treatment as expected.

November 11th

I met her on Kenzington Road tonight. "The timing was good." She said. Yeah, I'm going to get involved. After returning to her flat with her, after dinner, she called her the "Sharot Woman."

"I don't know what you're saying," he said hard.

"Maybe so." I'll leave it to you. "

"She said.

Am I in love? Only God knows, but God will not care.

November 15th

At M's recommendation, I went to see Dr. Hawkins, a stomach specialist. I arrived a little too early, so I walked along the Portland Place on the other side (from the shyness) and passed the endless nausea bell and brass plate. I was a little trembling.

The specialist wrote a lot of my evidence, examined me, and then escaped to consult with M. What a ceremony on parade! The jury who came back has made a decision called "Not Proven." I was told that I was out of the prairie and two years later I was a giant! But where is the prairie? What is a bus? If it gets worse, you have to take a few months of vacation. It seems to be so.

November 16th

Arthur came on the weekend. He likes Mrs. Sharot. She is "not handsome, but noticeable and impressive," she can "create a tragedy." I think it has already been achieved. If she was a little more shady and a little more beautiful, she would have been popular.

November 22nd

He: "Do you have a cigarette? It's fun to light your cigarette."

She: "I don't know how to suck"

He: "You only smoke so that you can smoke."

She: "Of course, graceful."

S: "Do you think I like being told beautifully?

H.: "Not good, if it's true. Flattering is to say beautiful to ugly women. S.:" That's right.

S.: "That's right.

H.: "It's a delicious and empty feeling, but I don't think you're so simple. You sometimes make me embarrassed."

H.: "It looks like a sailor Sindbad." "It looks like Sinbad of the Sailor]

H.: "It's not George Meredis. I'm afraid of my husband.

On December 9th, at the recommendation of M, I went to see Dr. Hawkins, a stomach specialist. I arrived a little too early, so I walked along the Portland Place on the other side (from the shyness) and passed the endless nausea bell and brass plate. I was a little trembling.

November 16th

November 22nd

He: "Do you have a cigarette? It's fun to light your cigarette."

She: "I don't know how to suck"

He: "You only smoke so that you can smoke."

She: "Of course, graceful."

S: "Do you think I like being told beautifully?

H.: "Not good, if it's true. Flattering is to say beautiful to ugly women. S.:" That's right.

S.: "That's right.

H.: "It's a delicious and empty feeling, but I don't think you're so simple. You sometimes make me embarrassed."

H.: "It looks like a sailor Sindbad." "It looks like Sinbad of the Sailor]

H.: "It's not George Meredis. I'm afraid of my husband.

On December 9th, M went to see Dr. Hawkins, a stomach specialist. I arrived a little too early, so I walked along the Portland Place on the other side (from the shyness) and passed the endless nausea bell and brass plate. I was a little trembling.

November 16th

November 22nd

He: "Do you have a cigarette? It's fun to light your cigarette."

She: "I don't know how to suck"

He: "You only smoke so that you can smoke."

She: "Of course, graceful."

S: "Do you think I like being told beautifully?

H.: "Not good, if it's true. Flattering is to say beautiful to ugly women. S.:" That's right.

S.: "That's right.

H.: "It's a delicious and empty feeling, but I don't think you're so simple. You sometimes make me embarrassed."

H.: "It looks like a sailor Sindbad." "It looks like Sinbad of the Sailor]

H.: "It's not George Meredis. I'm afraid of my husband.

December 9th

It is terrible tension to keep trying to live on time while having a carefully planned timetable for future performance. I will hurry to study Italian, read the life of Spa Lanzani, and complete it by the end of next year. In addition, Jenkinson's lectures at University College are assisted by a more detailed explanation of practical and experimental research in his textbook; behind this enthusiastic activity, next year, next year. Next week, tomorrow, there is a black shadow that you may die suddenly without doing anything now!

And sometimes, I get anxious like tonight. Can I do these things well so that I might have done it now? Has my unhealthy impact on my mental strength seriously? The boy from 1908 to 10 years was almost genius. Alternatively, at this distance, he was a very notable young man in pursuing his purpose of animal education and trying to achieve it.

After all, it is after all that you are a very common person, whether you are a comedy, tragedy, or that, whether you are a very common person. It is a terrible doubt that it is not enough to take and it is meaningless.

It is even more miserable for him to think about whether the laurel wreath was once in a place to reach and whether or not to blame his stomach. 。

December 15th.

A terrible heart attack. A seizure occurs every three or four beats while writing. No one knows if he can live until tonight. [Page 72]

December 16th.

I'm here again. It's a good night. After breakfast, intermittent pain began again, but now I am almost happy compared to yesterday when it was hell, only once every 30 minutes. The world is so wonderful that you can't give up with a weak heart.

The clock stopped last night before going to bed. At that time, I confirmed that the clock had stopped and wondered if this was a sign. When I woke up this morning, I was really surprised that I was still engraving. A while ago, the hearse passed by. Oh, but if you think about yesterday, it's no wonder you get sick. I get sick like this in the boarding house! I want to get married tomorrow if I have a chance.

December 22nd

"Ancient Hunters" by Solas I read Solas's book "Ancient Hunters". I was obsessed with the Aurinians, the Mousterians, the Magdalenians, and it was thrilling! Looking down on the enormous prospects of time and change, my own troubles seemed incredibly small. It was a real pillar of strength for me, a great tonic. There is a comforting word in paleontology too. I rejoiced in my smallness and irresponsibility. I learned that I am a fly, that we are all flies, that nothing matters. I learned that I am a fly, that we are all flies, that nothing matters. A great burden was lifted from my life. I don't care if I am such a microbe. Even death cannot take away that honor, for it cannot change the fact that I have lived. And when I die, because the matter that composes my body is immortal and eternal, whatever happens to my "soul," my dust will always be in motion, each of my atoms will have its part to play, and I will still have some finger in the pie. [Pg 73] When I die, you can boil me, roast me, drown me, or scatter me, but you cannot destroy me. Death can do no more than it can kill you. December 27th

"It is gratifying to note the success of the career of Mr. W. N. P. Barbellion, now engaged in scientific research on the staff of the Natural History Museum." etc.

This is a clipping from a local paper, one of which I once gladly pasted on the pages of the Journal from time to time. Not anymore.

I am a different person at 23. Surrounded by the stimulating environment of scientific research, I am cold and contemptuous. I am what I used to be, but at heart I am quite different. I am a hypocrite. I must wear masks and phrases. I live on initial momentum. My career! Fist pump.

From the drawing room window, I see an old gentleman with white hair, a sure step, broad shoulders, healthy pink skin, and a smile like the sun passing by every day. I want to throw mud at him. How hateful. He makes me suffer with his pain. It's heartless, it's vulgar, for an old man to have such fun... Life is not what he's waiting for. The great anarchist did not give him a bomb. (Omitted)

January 19th.

My 75-year-old aunt, who seems to have judged my spiritual life to be in a bad state because of my continued absence from church, read me her part today from a big book with a big purple tassel bookmark. I looked up from "I Promessi Sposi" and said, "Very good." It was about an unsaved soul, someone who knocks on the door and doesn't answer. It's fun to be considered a wicked, lustful young man by an old maiden aunt.

January 22nd This diary reads as if I do not live in mighty London. In reality, I live in a bigger, dirtier city, an unhealthy city. Illness, when it becomes chronic, is something that holds you back forever. If I were perfectly healthy, what a fine man I would be. My energy would lift the roof. We conversed round the sentence: "To travel in hope is better than to arrive. She is so graceful. Oh my goodness! I love, love, love her.

February 3rd

Confession

H... B... invited me to tea to meet his fiance.

I don't know why, for my idea of myself is greater than my idea of him, and perhaps his idea of him.

But I shaved, and even thought to buy new gloves. On reaching Turnham Green, I took off my glasses (for I well knew how much they marred my appearance). But, to my great delight, though I waited as promised, he did not appear. [Pg 75]

February 9th.

"Now, W---, talk pretty," she said as soon as the door was closed.

"Oh, let me read," whined my sister, but we talked instead of marriage, in all its aspects. Bless their hearts! I noticed that these two dear young people were simply basking in the idea of marriage.

The knee-jerk reflex was new to them. So I took the brush from the grate, went over to her and tapped her gently: "Oh, do that to me". It was a rare pleasure.

"Oh, beautiful knees. He bent down and tied my garter."

February 10th

News of Scott's great adventure! Scott died a year ago! "! When I saw the news in the Pall Mall Gazette tonight, it gave me chills. I could cry. What wonderful things humans are! If there is no loving God watching over us, it is a pity for God as well as for ourselves.

February 15th

On the way back from the Savoy, in the taxi, I tried to kiss her. I apologized on the steps of the Flats and told her I had caused her so much trouble. "She said, 'I'm not bothering you, I'm just surprised.'

We had dinner in Soho and I had wine. She looked so bewitching that I was feverish, and snapped my fingers in the cab seat, while she sat expressionless beside me. Her shoulders were exquisitely modeled, and her beautiful head was set on a small neck.

February 16

Tonight, as I walked up the stairs to her apartment, I made H--, who was with me, pose as Sydney Carton does in the painting of the scaffolding staircase in A Tale of Two Cities. He was delighted to learn of my misfortune last night, and laughed heartily.

At dinner, a man told me that he had knocked four times on the door of a lady's heart before finally being let through. I said that the last part of the romance was weak. She disagreed. But this man had no emotion whatsoever.

"He is 66 years old."

"What do you think is the best age for a man to get married? Thirty for men, twenty-five for women."

She: "Exactly. There's still a little time.

P: "What do you think? (to me).

I answered brusquely.

"The young man may not yet, and the old man may never."

"Exactly, the old man," said P.

"Cupid and Death once met at an inn and exchanged arrows.

H was a charmer and said it's impossible to decide when love will come. Love just comes.

We warned him to be careful about the boat to set sailing.

"H (in love with P) said.

"My brother is bathed on the boat when sailing, and I've been happy since then."

H: "Awesome passion!"

"The only difference between passion and whim is that the whim lasting a little longer," I said in a difficult monotone.

"It looks like a book," she despised.

Oscar Wild!

P claimed to take a biscuit. "Don't worry. Don't worry," she said. ["Don't worry"]

(I said.)

February 24th

Last night, H came back and when he came out, he said, "W, tell W that he hates him." So it's okay. Let's go again tomorrow! My absence is informed at that time.

I went home and lay down on my bed while wearing clothes.

First of all, he was suspicious, and he was convinced that he was a cold, selfish, and pursuing sensation. For a while, my sel f-satisfied sel f-satisfaction was bottoming out. For a long time, he drifted without a compass or star. I was quite confused and temporarily lost my love. I got up, ignited the gas, looked at myself in the mirror, and found it really.

With a remorse, I should have out of the garden and eat earthworms. However, the mirror recalled my sel f-consciousness, and I began to return to the skin I recently abandoned. As soon as I felt interest, fun, and curious about the fact that I was really disgusted with myself, I began to regain my sense of balance. Now, I and I have a relatively easy relationship. I am settled on an old turntable. He is knocked out many times, and he returns immediately even if he is shot down.

Read Belxon and O. T. in bed until 12:30. We warned him to be careful about the boat to set.

"H (in love with P) said.

"My brother is bathed on the boat when sailing, and I've been happy since then."

H: "Awesome passion!"

I dissected the sheld lake. I discovered the unusual asymmetry of spinning and enjoyed it very much.

"It looks like a book," she despised.

Oscar Wild!

P claimed to take a biscuit. "Don't worry. Don't worry," she said. ["Don't worry"]

H.: "Huh!

(I said.)

February 24th

Last night, H came back and when he came out, he said, "W, tell W that he hates him." So it's okay. Let's go again tomorrow! My absence is informed at that time.

I went home and lay down on my bed while wearing clothes.

Today, she was silent and depressed, but wonderful and attractive. One day becomes desperate, and one day it becomes cold and lethargic. Am I in love? Only God knows! She came to the door to say, "Good night." [Page 78]

Read Belxon and O. T. in bed until 12:30. We warned him to be careful about the boat to set sailing.

"H (in love with P) said.

"My brother has been bathed on the boat when sailing, and I've been happy since then."

H: "Awesome passion!"

"The only difference between passion and whim is that the whim lasting a little longer," I said in a difficult monotone.

"It looks like a book," she despised.

Oscar Wild!

P claimed to take a biscuit. "Don't worry. Don't worry," she said. ["Don't worry"]

H.: "Huh!

(I said.)

Last night, H came back and when he came out, he said, "W, tell W that he hates him." So it's okay. Let's go again tomorrow! My absence is informed at that time.

I went home and lay down on the bed while wearing clothes and rumored.

When I got home, I was waiting for me when I arrived at the house

Read Belxon and O. T. in bed until 12:30.

Supper in the apartment. E was cold and silent. She rejected me. It's no wonder. I spoke so brilliantly, with a clear purpose to reveal J --'s lethargic. He pulled his legs. He hates me. It's natural. After dinner, he entered her atelier and was there alone while she was working. At 11:00 pm, he was still there when I came back in a whirlpool of jealousy, regret and anger. G-said he was going to stay until he saw "driving that troublesome from the facility". Neither of them tried to get rid of him.

I love her deeply. Once, she heard the sound of entering the room and my heart jumped. But it was just P. Since then, she has never met her.

In the evening, I worked in our bedroom. In front of a pitiful and miserable single man-H----, he was reading a fair law in front of a nobody grate. On the other hand, I sat in front of the table, wore a top coat, set up a collar, and wrote a masterpiece that brought me to me!

This morning, when I was wearing shoes, I was pointed out that a big hole was open on the heel of the socks.

"Damn it! At least he said I said that, and I am ready to believe in him. This unconscious is unusual for me.

(At a public dinner at Holbone Restaurant) Answered the J-Lady toast. weak! H-and I stood, winked one eye on E-and N-and had a silent toast. He sat on me.

If I was told to take this toast, I would have said the following as follows.

[The full text of this speech was written that night before going to bed. ] [PG79].

But I think it's a soft fool! My waist is soft, ove r-conscious, and shy. I have lost many sel f-beautification! Instead, I will get a lot of sel f-torture!

Stay at the seaside

Yesterday, P came to us from the E --'s atelier.

"E is telling love"

"Who? H asked.

P smiled to me and answered, "I don't know."

Last night, I talked to H for a long time. According to him, E was the only thing he wanted to convey. I was relieved. I have no money, but I have a great ambition. Spend your vacation in Jura, and next year at the Primus Research Institute for three weeks.

I went to see E--. We were alone for an awkward half hour. She was bewitching! I was falling more and more in love. I once said, I am very fond of her.

"Why don't you try to get rid of it?" I said.

"Not until Zeus has mercy on me and chases the clouds away."

We were sitting on beds next to each other in our top room of a lodging house in --Road--.

It was half past eleven at night and I was leaning to one side to light the oil lamp so I could boil the kettle for some Ovaltine before bed. [Pg80].

"Who did you seduce? I cried. "Don't you know, you rotten bastard, that the death of a remorseful passion is as terrible as a worm-ridden corpse? I'm talking about literature. As for K, I'm never inviting him to dinner again. He came to me whining that nobody loved him, and I said, 'Oh, poor boy, never mind, if you're bored, just come to my room in the evening and listen to me. And now he's become cocky.'"

H (sipping his drink and absorbed) replied abstractly: (I liked his Homeric simplicity) "You should be buried in a fireproof safe."

H (returning to the attack): "I hope she refuses."

"Thank you."

As for P, "She's double Dutch for me," he continued.

"Go to the Berlitz School and learn the language," I suggested.

"You idiot. You just sit there and laugh like a resentful cat. You won't be moved no matter what I say. Professor, here is a 99-legged beetle that lived on a granite rock for 40 days and 40 nights in the middle of the Sahara Desert, and you'll just say, 'Yes, I forgot to blow my nose.'"

The two of us in our pajamas shook with laughter, the lights went out, and the same conversation continued until we fell asleep.

Two months of sick leave

I think I'm on the verge of ataxia after the terrible panic of the last few days. One leg, one arm, and my language are affected, the right side and the speech center. M-- is serious. I hope that whatever the disease is, it will last long enough for me to finish writing my book.

R-- is a dear man. I won't easily forget his kindness this dreadful week. Fate is a bold one. Who can say?

I think I am certain that my right side is a little paralyzed (like my father's). When excited, I stutter a little, and I cannot write properly (see my handwriting). My head swims.

"I don't know anything about this," he desperately said.

I saw M again, and he said that my symptoms were certainly worrying, but that he could not give me a definite diagnosis.

Together with M I was examined by Dr. H, a well-known neurologist. He could find no clear symptoms of illness, but asked suspiciously if I had been with a woman.

I was ordered to take two months' complete rest in the country. H-- chased me around the examination room with a drumstick, hitting my nerves and cunning my reflexes. Then he tickled the soles of my feet and pricked them with pins. He had a soft black hat, looked like a Quaker, and wrote: "Verhandlungen d. Gesellschaft d. Nervenarzten .

M-- was a devout man, and yesterday (for the 99th time) after I had revealed my physique to him (after treating my reflexes), he knelt down beside the sofa in the consulting room and remained in a prayer position for some time. If the doctor prays for you, you had better call the undertaker. My epitaph will be: "He played Lourdes well." This game requires moral stamina, anyway.

At R--. Mugging all day. After putting on a record on the gramophone, I crawled into a corner of the large, empty drawing room and ate my heart. Hearts taste bitter - if it's your own.

Feeling sick, I sat down in the "morning room." In the chair opposite sat Aunt Fanny, 86, knitting. I listened to the sound of needles, the thrush sang in the garden, and saw the red sunset.

Before I left R--, A-- [my brother] wrote to my uncle, enclosing a letter from my doctor. I don't know the details, but I know that Dr. M emphasized the seriousness of the condition and hoped that two months of rest would abate the symptoms.

I met H on the street and said something that bothered him.

"I hope you'll be married to a sloppy woman. Hope your child will be thick, thin, your teeth will fall off, and your toes will become hallux valgus." I arranged the words that seemed to be.

I looked at the third man.

"Bob, this is all for that young man! It's what I've done for that young man! I taught him about poetry hobbies. [PG83]

She was a dear woman and gave me squid. What a cheerful child!

"I answered threatening.

H.: "Until you see the tombstone, I don't think you've died, and you'll say it in the sixth place," Are you really dead? " The sixth quarter will say, "Well, it has been buried anyway."

Bob did not synchronize at all.

I searched for H who was doing water in Petunia in the garden. He was going to London on Monday.

H.: "Oh! I'm buying kit shirts. I'll leave in July.

B child: "It's difficult to buy a shirt. I don't know what to do if I have it. I got into my store and entered the store, and said," You are a shirt. " Mom, what are the wild shirts saying?

H.: "You are B. F." (Continue water).

"If you are released in a big garden, what will you do?"

H.: "I'm happy like a bird. I jump, squeeze, lay eggs. I saw last year's tomato seedlings?

B.: "This time, tell me a big gozbury like your mother.

We were resentful of each other. Then we laughed with the grin and made a strange and ferocious Caqueen. After this explosion several times a day, we said: I have never heard such an unusual cry. Our chatting is interrupted by this sound every minute! [PG 84] "I hope you'll marry a sloppy woman. Hope your child will be thick, your eyes will be thin, your teeth will fall off, and your toes will be hallux valgus." They arranged words that seemed to be as usual.

I looked at the third man.

"Bob, this is all for that young man! It's what I've done for that young man! I taught him about poetry hobbies. [PG83]

October 26th

"I answered threatening.

H.: "Until you see the tombstone, I don't think you've died, and you'll say it in the sixth place," Are you really dead? " The sixth quarter will say, "Well, it has been buried anyway."

Bob did not synchronize at all.

I searched for H who was doing water in Petunia in the garden. He was going to London on Monday.

H.: "My mother is coming."

H.: "Oh! I'm buying kit shirts. I'll leave in July.

B child: "It's difficult to buy a shirt. I don't know what to do if I have it. I got into my store and entered the store, and said," You are a shirt. " Mom, what are the wild shirts saying?

H.: "You are B. F." (Continue water).

"If you are released in a big garden, what will you do?"

H.: "I'm happy like a bird. I jump, squeeze, lay eggs. I saw last year's tomato seedlings?

B.: "This time, tell me a big gozbury like your mother.

We were resentful of each other. Then we laughed with the grin and made a strange and ferocious Caqueen. After this explosion several times a day, we said: I have never heard such an unusual cry. Our chatting is interrupted by this sound every minute! [PG 84] "I hope you'll marry a sloppy woman. Your child will be thick, thin, your teeth will fall off, and your feet will become hallux valgus." The words seemed to be as long as possible.

I looked at the third man.

"Bob, this is all for that young man! It's what I've done for that young man! I taught him about poetry hobbies. [PG83]

H. (relentless): "When will you die?

"He said desperately," I'm studying fish. "

H.: "Until you see the tombstone, I don't think you've died, and you'll say it in the sixth place," Are you really dead? " The sixth quarter will say, "Well, it has been buried anyway."

Bob did not synchronize at all.

I searched for H who was doing water in Petunia in the garden. He was going to London on Monday.

H.: "My mother is coming."

H.: "Oh! I'm buying kit shirts. I'll leave in July.

B child: "It's difficult to buy a shirt. I don't know what to do if I have it. I got into my store and entered the store, and said," You are a shirt. " Mom, what are the wild shirts saying?

H.: "You are B. F." (Continue water).

"If you are released in a big garden, what will you do?"

H.: "I'm happy like a bird. I jump, squeeze, lay eggs. I saw last year's tomato seedlings?

B.: "This time, tell me a big gozbury like your mother.

A stagnant day. I was still in the park all day. There were almost no one in the park. Everyone except me was working. Nothing is as boring as a weekday entertainment district. A little away, there was a man throwing a ball on a clever dog. Behind me, there was a person who was manipulating a nanny car. Even after the nanny car was disappeared, I was listening to the sound of gravel rubbing in a kind of coma. Far, there was a bell of the church in a village across the river, and in the front of a man who was still throwing a ball in a clever dog.

In fact, I think I finally got to know the idea of death. Once terrible and once hated. But now it's just annoying. I have lived with a bogey for a long time and have eaten together many times, so I got used to his ugliness. Why doesn't he do so? Why do you take such an attitude of Kyojun and why he gives me everything other than poison? Why am I dying so long?

It is humiliation that you have to die. I have to pour the precious juice of my life into a dull earth. The women I loved were married and forgotten, and the men I hated would keep on the road and forget that I hated them! Do you like chatting who prefer to be blocked by soil? [Page 85]

Abandonment

Stay at Kings Hotel. Dizziness is terrible. Death seems inevitable. Brain tumor?

I got off the train, sitting in the corner of the compartment, entangled one leg in the other leg, putting an elbow on the edge of the window, and looking at the green fields, green forests, and green fangs. 。 The weather was perfect, and the sun was pouring down with the san. A stagnant day. I was still in the park all day. There were almost no one in the park. Everyone except me was working. Nothing is as boring as a weekday entertainment district. A little away, there was a man throwing a ball on a clever dog. Behind me, there was a person who was manipulating a nanny car. Even after the nanny car was disappeared, I was listening to the sound of gravel rubbing in a kind of coma. Far, there was a bell of the church in a village across the river, and in the front of a man who was still throwing a ball in a clever dog.

Abandonment

Stay at Kings Hotel. Dizziness is terrible. Death seems inevitable. Brain tumor?

I got off the train, sitting in the corner of the compartment, entangled one leg in the other leg, putting an elbow on the edge of the window, and looking at the green fields, green forests, and green fangs. 。 The weather was perfect, and the sun was pouring down with the san. A stagnant day. I was still in the park all day. There were almost no one in the park. Everyone except me was working. Nothing is as boring as a weekday entertainment district. A little away, there was a man throwing a ball on a clever dog. Behind me, there was a person who was manipulating a nanny car. Even after the nanny car was disappeared, I was listening to the sound of gravel rubbing in a kind of coma. Far, there was a bell of the church in a village across the river, and in the front of a man who was still throwing a ball in a clever dog.

Abandonment

Stay at Kings Hotel. Dizziness is terrible. Death seems inevitable. Brain tumor?

Indeed, the thought of leaving it all behind made me feel sorry for myself; that is, I felt sorry for other people too: the two brown cartmen trotting along with their timber carts, the two old ladies knitting stockings in the same compartment as me, the beautiful swallows darting over the stream, the rabbits that flew into the ferns as we passed...

I was surprised at the extent of my gentle compassion. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I had completely forgotten my wretched ambition. I forgave the successful, the time-wasters, the self-satisfied, the proud, the dignified and polite - in fact, all those who had been thorns in my flesh and who had innocently encouraged me to make even greater efforts to break them. "Poor people," I said. "Poor people. I would make them happy if I could. With a submissive heart, I was ready to sit in the ranks of the world's failures. And what was strangest of all was that I was able to melt such cold morals by taking a genuine interest in the careers of my struggling contemporaries. With perfect self-denial, I stretched out my hand to them and prayed, "God Speed."

It was a strange delusion. But the fact is, we can't help but be poor at our lives. We are all [Pg 86] "paying for it." And we can afford to be generous. For my part, it has been a short and tumultuous voyage, but I am sad to reach port. I unreservedly abandon all my plans, hopes, loves, and enthusiasms. I myself am already really dead.

The sea last night was like a paved road, and a cute barrel ship with sails to receive a small breeze was like a ship drawn on a purple tapestry, only a little inspiration. It didn't work. H-Hill was an indigo blue huge square lump. The rowing boats rarely progressed, and the paddles rowed in a melancholy had dropped water droplets like syrup. Everything was quiet, the air was like fluffy and very stuffy. After the darkness came, the Bullpoint Lighthouse shines intermittently like a wink with a nasty eyes.

The results came in. As expected, there were only three places and I came in fourth.

I first found her in the distance and immediately looked at the sea. After a while, I began to look back again, with the caution and suspicion of the turtle coming out of the shell. In the meantime, she was scared when she found she was sitting on her back in her seat right behind me. We sitting back to back for a while, and I enjoyed a novel experience and tension. A few years ago, I looked at her, palpitations, took courage and stopped, and when I tried to talk, I was pale, and I couldn't control my face.

She met for the first time in three years and thought she must have noticed my existence. After that, we met and I got to know. She is a cute girl. So is her sister.

Few people know my affection, except for the barber. He has to shave my supple lips.

I was worried for hours whether to be invited to dinner. There are several reasons I wanted to go. For the first time I wanted to meet her in a homely atmosphere, and I wanted to spend the night with three cute girls. Also, as an old romance hero, I wanted to expose myself to my family's glance.

On the other hand, I was afraid that the invitation would be too casual. My brothers and sisters would look upon me as a demon of jilt, and she herself would face me and make me blush as she remembered our passionate kisses, our love letters, and our terrible poems to each other! Such an adventure seemed a frightening possibility. But I was eager to experience this exciting situation.

At 7 p. m., half an hour before the appointment, I made a bold move. I went into the pub, quenched my thirst with whiskey and soda, and set out with a strong heart to storm the icy family and, if necessary, to dispel their bad reputation with my affability and urbanity!

And, if necessary, to dispel their bad reputation with my affability and urbanity. She is a very pretty girl, like velvet. Before dinner we strolled in the garden and talked of flowers. [Pg88].

This morning, on the hill, my heart pounded with the news of my own death: I mean, these were the words I heard.

Second voice: "No, what?"

"I don't know anything about this," he desperately said.

New piles for the pier

I saw some men driving new piles into the pier. There was all the usual equipment - chains, pulleys, cranes, ropes - and huge wooden piles swung over the water on the ends of long wire hosers. Everything was in a heavy style, and even the men were very strong, slow, ruminative, and silent.

Not much relevance could be gleaned from casual remarks. The conversation was, without exception, monotonous, like "let go" and "stand firm." But as I closely watched the indistinct movements of the man on the ladder at the water's edge, it gradually entered my consciousness that all these strong, silent men were facing some painful difficulty. I don't know what it was. The sturdy monsters were silent on the matter. In fact, they seemed almost indifferent and tired. The attitude of the man nearest me was that he didn't care if the stake continued to swing in the air until the chasm of doom.

They continued to work slowly and painstakingly to overcome the secret difficulty. But the efforts slackened and finally gave way. One after the other, huge men left their posts, leaned over the railing, and stared mystic-like at the bottom of the sea. None spoke. None even looked at the bottom. Some spat, and with round, sad eyes watched the brown bolus (which they had been chewing) fall into the sea.

The foreman, a man of original thought, lit a cigarette, relieved his nerves, and then, slowly and majestically, turned on his heels and walked away. With the foreman's sudden loss of interest, the affair came to an end. I would hardly have been surprised to find him playing shove-ha-penny and skittles behind the harbormaster's office, with the stake hanging in the air. It was only a bloody stake, after all.

Depressed mood Depressed mood came suddenly. All the color disappeared from my life, the world became dirty gray. On my way back to the hotel, I saw H., who had jumped into a taxi to visit Sands. But I didn't feel like shouting or waving when I saw him. I just wondered how on earth he had managed to spend a happy day in Sandy Place.

Arriving at, I sank further into the mire. I felt suffocated by the sight of old familiar landmarks. How unpleasant the holidaymakers along the road were. How lonely Peg Top Hill was. The very fact that it was all there in the morning made me nauseous. The seaside here is wonderful and the town is beautiful. It's like walking into an empty house on a winter's day, with no fireplace and nowhere to sit. I felt lonely and alone, like a person who had suddenly fallen from the clouds into a strange town of icy penguins in Antarctica. Who are these people? I asked myself impatiently. On the other side of the street was my brother, probably my own brother. But I didn't feel the slightest bit of interest and told the taxi driver to hurry on. The spray from the sea fogged up my glasses and I was tired. [Page 90]

The restlessness of the sea

The calmness of the sea has the effect of calm the frustrated nerves. At first, I look at the constant activity in a reluctant way to distract my precious concerns and sadness, but I am completely abandoned and looked at it.

Dr. Sport John

The cloudy sky continued, but tonight the soft wind blew, and the sky cleared like a mop. When the sun came out, he was illuminating white sails far off the coast of the strait. The white sail shines like silver paper every time the main sail tacks. The loneliness and whiteness floating in the Marine Blue desert attracted the viewer's attention and eventually became unable to see others. Tanned white skin, brown eyes, dark eyebrows, beautiful girls with small cute legs, dewing on the face of violets, orange butterflies swaying in the flower umbrella.

The sail continued to blink and began to have almost moral effects on me. He pulled out all the good things in me. Fill a white wing, take off the body like a shell, like an angel, "like a removed clothes", pursue truth and beauty, cross the sea and to the horizon, cross the horizon, the last of the sky itself. To a slight border.

Now you can ridicule like this. However, my exhilaration at that time was very real. My soul was tied to the chain and was nervous. It was full of desire for spiritual beauty that could not be achieved. I was looking for something. But I don't know what I want. [Page 91]

My touch

My tactile sensation is always morbidly sharp. I like to feel the cigarette caught on the edge of the mouth. When you release the cigarette from your mouth, you can lift the fork with two fingers. When waiting for a meal, put your finger on a cold knife or fork. When you are in the countryside, put your finger spread into a large grass lump, close your finger, crush the grass, and cut your neck.

Camp with S sandwich

It was a wonderful summer day. I got up early, had breakfast, dressed in a sweater and pants, and walked on the sandy beach to a boat house. The restlessness of the sea has the effect of calm the irritated nerves. At first, I look at the constant activity in a reluctant way to distract my precious concerns and sadness, but I am completely abandoned and looked at it.

January 23rd

The cloudy sky continued, but tonight a soft wind blew, and the sky cleared like a mop. When the sun came out, he was illuminating white sails far off the coast of the strait. The white sail shines like silver paper every time the main sail tacks. The loneliness and whiteness floating in the Marine Blue desert attracted the viewer's attention and eventually became unable to see others. Tanned white skin, brown eyes, dark eyebrows, beautiful girls with small cute legs, dewing on the face of violets, orange butterflies swaying in the flower umbrella.

My touch

Camp with S sandwich

It was a wonderful summer day. I got up early, had breakfast, dressed in a sweater and pants, and walked on the sandy beach to a boat house. The calmness of the sea has the effect of calm the frustrated nerves. At first, I look at the constant activity in a reluctant way to distract my precious concerns and sadness, but I am completely abandoned and looked at it.

Dr. Sport John

My touch

My tactile sensation is always morbidly sharp. I like to feel the cigarette caught on the edge of my mouth. When you release the cigarette from your mouth, you can lift the fork with two fingers. When waiting for a meal, put your finger on a cold knife or fork. When you are in the countryside, put your finger spread into a large grass lump, close your finger, crush the grass, and cut your neck.

Camp with S sandwich

It was a wonderful summer day. I got up early, had breakfast, dressed in a sweater and pants, and walked on the sandy beach to a boat house.

Everything was great! I was absorbed in walking on a flat sandy beach with one leg forward. I felt that my thigh muscles were moving, and I liked to shake my arms according to the stride. The hard wind cleared the sky, flutter my long hair, and roared on both ears. I walked to Alexander!

The sandy beach was dry like bones and was warm. There was no one on the sandy beach. Everything was naked, clean, and exposed to the wind. My board was washed clean and white. The sandy beach continued three miles, hard, pure and flat. My gaze ran all the way, and there was nothing to stop the birds and people. There was nothing in the vast space where the wind blows, except for me, the wind and the sea.

On the way home, I met an old man who was collecting sticks at the foot of the cliff. He walked with a stick in a long bag and casually said, "Do you believe in Jesus Christ?" "The boy who was lying on his back on a sandy beach several meters away said," Jesus Christ died to save me, "said he had no hesitation.

Life is full of surprises. What I heard today was the squeal of the gull. The gardener of your house will also teach you the right chemical formula of carbon dioxide over the rake. I have met a postponer who is delivering while reading Sherry.

I am now writing this near the lamp in the hut in the dunes. I wear a pair of dirt in a pair of bags, and go without hats, shoes and stockings. There is an atmosphere like "Deadwood Dick". I'm like a Bronco breaker or a rancher. Immediately, H runs into the mansion, puts a rope on the foal, and says "I'm growing Cain" to eat the lean meat full. If I would be alive, I would go abroad (touch a tree) and leave it alone.

Eat greedly, tan, get hairy (it means strength!), And speak of predicted oath. If you are here longer, your tail will grow and you will climb the tree. Everything was great! I was absorbed in walking on a flat sandy beach with one leg forward. I felt that my thigh muscles were moving, and I liked to shake my arms according to the stride. The hard wind cleared the sky, flutter my long hair, and roared on both ears. I walked to Alexander!

Eat greedly, tan, get hairy (it means strength!), And speak of predicted oath. If you are here longer, your tail will grow and you will climb the tree. Everything was great! I was absorbed in walking on a flat sandy beach with one leg forward. I felt that my thigh muscles were moving, and I liked to shake my arms according to the stride. The hard wind cleared the sky, flutter my long hair, and roared on both ears. I walked to Alexander!

The sandy beach was dry like bones and was warm. There was no one on the sandy beach. Everything was naked, clean, and exposed to the wind. My board was washed clean and white. The sandy beach was three miles, hard, pure and flat. My gaze ran all the way, and there was nothing to stop the birds and people. There was nothing in the vast space where the wind blows, except for me, the wind and the sea.

Eat greedly, tan, get hairy (it means strength!), And speak of predicted oath. If you are here longer, your tail will grow and you will climb the tree.

After baked fried eggs and fried bread cleanly, they went to bed at 10 o'clock, both of them laid warmly and comfortably in bed, and listened to Hoffman's Vulcarol on the phonograph while sucking cigarettes. We erased the lamp and looked at each other's cigarette light in the dark. Neither of them talked. I fell asleep at midnight. When I woke up with the sunrise, the owl continued to sing, the hibari sang, and several Kashiradaka was hitting the tin roof with nails. [93 page]

To London again

I was very depressed and returned to London. I'm not as good as three weeks ago. The eyesight of one eye has declined and the possibility of blindness is troubled. One side of the face was numb and the right arm stopped moving.

My beloved mother is very weak due to neuritis and heart weakness, lying on bed. When I said "Goodbye," my mother cried, going to the church as often as possible and reading a part of the Bible every day. I promised. He added, "For dad." Poor, she is very suffering. She doesn't know my illness. I haven't talked to her.

Return to work. It was a terrible day. Think of pistol suicide.

Spending every day is very difficult. You have to struggle with one minute and one second. Every time is conquered. The third hour of lunch is the blessing of God. I look forward to it from the morning and go back to the room and go back again, and I will enter that time with joy and relief. By being so wise, I can manage my spirit and the one hour in the middle of the difficult day is relatively bright.

I went into bed several times and thought that I shouldn't wake up as it is. Life becomes impossible day by day. Today, I put the slide under a microscope. It seemed to be looking at something from the other side of the telescope. I sat down on the eyeball and pretended to be working for someone. My head was full of something completely different. It's ridiculous to have to study mites while thinking about life and death.

I have no job. I don't move while sitting in a chair, hitting the devil's tattoo with my thumb, thinking, thinking, and thinking, thinking, thinking, and thinking. I can't work. I don't have the courage. I don't have the courage.

"Your father is at the T Railway station. He seems to have obviously caused cerebral hemorrhage."

Tonight I have two old maids, a German youth (a lecherous, yelling, stupid creature), a female typist (on drugs, I think), a dipsomaniac (who has fits every month - the other night I carried him upstairs and put him to bed), two invertebrate violinists who play in the Covent Garden Orchestra, the man who sits at my table and the colonial ladies who are scheming in my bedroom. What are these people to me? I hate them all. They know it and they are offended.

After dinner I put on my hat and hurried off to get away wherever I wanted. Not knowing where I was going or what I was doing, I walked to the end of the street. I stood there, staring hard at the traffic on Kensington Road, not knowing what to do, unable to make up my mind (paralysis of the will). I looked forward to going to see her again tomorrow evening, and at the same time wondering how on earth I was going to get through tomorrow's round before evening. It was a fumbling life. My own interiority consumes all external interest. Zoology seems a curiosity in the bazaars of Baghdad. I sit in my room at midnight and play with it. Like a child playing, I let it roll through my fingers.

I go to her flat. She wears a black dress with a white silk blouse and a Byron collar, open at the front as if a button had come off. She says my ratings vary. I understand she means I am on top now! Alleluia!

It would take too long and I am too tired to write out all the different aspects of my life today. [1]

I enjoyed my ride to the city this morning. I secretly chuckled as the train sprinted along the rails to London, carrying me and my fellow passengers in pursuit of fortune, fame and learning. I was intoxicated by the speed, ferocity and spunk of life. If a train had run into the shock absorbers, I would have hung my head out the window and cheered. If any man got in my way, I would have knocked him down. The carriage wheels sang a voluptuous song, and I joined in.

We talked about a man and a woman, but she said she was neither an angel nor a devil, but just a man. I said that women were either an angel or the devil.

"Which one do you think?

"I said short.

I'm so upset by the news from my house. My mother is really sick. Doctors are worried that there is a serious disability in the nerves, and their mother has always said that they are sick. Poor! It's terrible. But I have a small wish at the bottom of my heart (PG 96], so that my mother is prolonged with mental and physical pain, so that we want to be out of time as soon as possible. In particular, she hopes that she doesn't have to listen to my sad news. Just two years after his father's death, what is the ironic that paralysis and his right arms are inconvenienced? Because it reminds me of my father's illness. What would she think of M, who was visiting the consultation room yesterday, told me, "How are you in paralysis?"

In the evening, I went to see her. She was handsome wearing a black silk gown. She has the same, sad, attractive, pretty, and soft voice! She does not change. What should I do? I can't give up on her, and I can't even take her into my heart. I'm annoyed what to do. I'm a cunning fish.

I sat in the garden with her. He had been sitting on the sun for a while, but he turned his back to King Sol, fearing that freckles could be made. I said rude.

"He said," He's a beloved person. He kissed me and said, "If you want, turn back."

Is it attractive?

I wanted to say, "It's strange to kiss him," but the remark was at risk of reviving the dead.

I did my best and searched for any escape, but I couldn't avoid the melancholy fact that her thumb was deplorable. I'm purely upset because I like her. Otherwise, no one will be more happy than me. Poor, I love her! So I'm worried about her thumb. [97]

At 11:50, a telegram entered from A-, "Darling Mother died in peace yesterday afternoon." Yesterday afternoon, I wrote animals and had a good night's sleep last night. It was sudden. I got home on the first train.

He is staying at Hotel Du Geskran in a kankale near San Malo.

This new experience flood has been crazy about my diary. To be honest, I completely forgot about myself. He was too absorbed in living and couldn't stand the tension of writing down what he had seen and heard. If you start writing at least once, you will blow this page like a whirlwind. However, it is a waste of time because M. Le Batelier is waiting outside with a bespoke to take him to mackerel fishing.

September 8th

I returned to Southampton yesterday. On the way to T-Lectory, I stayed overnight at Devonshire's Kokihahampton. This morning, I came up with two small ponies from Dart Moore and was ridiculous to start running out of the town. A is a good ride, even though he has never been on a pony for years. I can't ride at all! But I thought it would be easy for me to ride a cute pony with a brown and long tail. I went out to the garden of the inn and was appalled by the two horses with saddles. I rode a small horse and walked out of the garden without an accident. However, when I entered the countryside, I was quite upset because the fresh horses were trying to run, so I was pretty upset and I could hardly sit down. As a result, I can hardly sit. Eventually, the horse was frustrated and crossed the road into a zigzag.

I got off immediately and changed the horse with A--.

A progressed and retreated to support me. However, in the end, I didn't want to walk, and I started troting. For a while, I endured this well and the saddle was going up well. When I ran about two miles, severe pain came. I had to go down to see that my legs were not bent, very cautiously, with a strange feeling of discomfort in my legs! Meanwhile, the horses, the trolled monster, stepped on my toes, and I was cursed.

1915

As I approached the village, I saw L straddling A's horse, and I saw I was crawling with the horse's reins, holding down my flank and laughing. I got on the horse again and dashed on the site of Lectory.

September 28 The flood of this new experience has been crazy about my diary. To be honest, I completely forgot about myself. He was too absorbed in living and couldn't stand the tension of writing down what he had seen and heard. If you start writing at least once, you will blow this page like a whirlwind. However, it is a waste of time because M. Le Batelier is waiting outside with a bespoke to take him to mackerel fishing.

September 8th

I got off immediately and changed the horse with A--.

September 28 This new flood has been crazy about my diary. To be honest, I completely forgot about myself. He was too absorbed in living and couldn't stand the tension of writing down what he had seen and heard. If you start writing at least once, you will blow this page like a whirlwind. However, it is a waste of time because M. Le Batelier is waiting outside with a bespoke to take him to mackerel fishing.

September 8th

I returned to Southampton yesterday. On my way to T-Lectory, I stayed overnight at Devonshire's Kokihahampton. This morning, I came up with two small ponies from Dart Moore and trying to run out of the town. A is a good ride, despite having never been on a pony for years. I can't ride at all! But I thought it would be easy for me to ride a cute pony with a brown and long tail. I went out to the garden of the inn and was appalled by the two horses with saddles. I rode a small horse and walked out of the garden without an accident. However, when I entered the countryside, I was quite upset because the fresh horses were trying to run, so I was pretty upset and I could hardly sit down. As a result, I can hardly sit. Eventually, the horse was frustrated and crossed the road into a zigzag.

I got off immediately and changed the horse with A--.

A progressed and retreated to support me. However, in the end, I didn't want to walk, and I started troting. For a while, I endured this well and the saddle was going up well. When I ran about two miles, severe pain came. While feeling strange discomfort in my legs, I had to go down very carefully to confirm that my legs were not bent! Meanwhile, the horses, the trolled monster, stepped on my toes, and I was cursed.

As I approached the village, I saw L straddling A horses, and I was walking with my horse's reins and walking, holding down my flank. I got on the horse again and dashed on the site of the lectory.

September 28

I have been living on this planet 24 years old and can claim that I am qualified to express some opinions about this planet. Therefore, I discovered that I was in a place where I live, move, exist, and be in an interesting place that is likely to be sucked, and is dominated by one of the other huge features, that is, all the mysteries. Record! Everything is surprising, and I can't believe my existence!

I can't explain anything. Everything is stupid. It's like walking around the masked dance venue. Even I myself is a mystery. It is a wonderful and horrible thing to feel that you, that is, your most inner and substantive property, is a mystery and you can't understand it. I look at myself in the mirror and mock myself. One day, I'm strangely and unfamiliar like a wing dragon. I found that I was here, even though I didn't want to be here or chose my attribute, but I was here [PG 99] with a line that was perfectly arbitrarily arranged. There is a certain strict humor. In terms of human dignity, it looks like a rough prank. My own abnormal physique is certainly a joke.

In London again

K came from the dance classroom, nodded me and hugged her sister's neck.

"Oh, I caught a cold."

"I said with my eyes blue," She is coughing tonight. "

"While washing your hands with invisible soap," no one has been able to solve the problem of diatoms yet. No one knows its identity. That's because there is a god!

Last night, I heard the sound of knocking on the door, so I thought it was R ---, so I opened the door and invited one tramp. I gave him a copper coin, as it was certain that he was a friendly guy.

"I have a terrible cold," he said.

"I also catch a cold and have a flu.

After 10 minutes, I was talking about my personal career. However, he seemed to be thirsty, leaving slowly, and my heart was left without being hurt. London is a lonely place.

Today, I submitted evidence in a county court as an economic insect science expert in litigation on furniture damage by ticks. What ironic! (See June 30, 1911).

October 11 I have been living on this planet 24 years old and can claim that I am qualified to give some opinions about this planet. Therefore, I discovered that I was in a place where I live, move, exist, and be in an interesting place that is likely to be sucked, and is dominated by one of the other huge features, that is, all the mysteries. Record! Everything is surprising, and I can't believe my existence!

Beginning

In London again

K came from the dance classroom, nodded me and hugged her sister's neck.

"Oh, I caught a cold."

"I said with my eyes blue," She is coughing tonight. "

She said.

Last night, I heard the sound of knocking on the door, so I thought it was R ---, so I opened the door and invited one tramp. I gave him a copper coin, as it was certain that he was a friendly guy.

"I have a terrible cold," he replied.

"I also catch a cold and have a flu.

After 10 minutes, I was talking about my personal career. However, he seemed to be thirsty, leaving slowly, and my heart was left without being hurt. London is a lonely place.

Today, I submitted evidence in a county court as an economic insect science expert in litigation on furniture damage by ticks. What ironic! (See June 30, 1911).

On October 11, I have lived on this planet 24 years old and can claim that I am qualified to give some opinions about this planet. Therefore, I discovered that I was in a place where I live, move, exist, and be in an interesting place that is likely to be sucked, and is dominated by one of the other huge features, that is, all the mysteries. Record! Everything is surprising, and I can't believe my existence!

In London again

K came from the dance classroom, nodded me and hugged her sister's neck.

"Oh, I caught a cold."

"I said with my eyes blue," She is coughing tonight. "

She said.

Last night, I heard the sound of knocking on the door, so I thought it was R ---, so I opened the door and invited one tramp. I gave him a copper coin, as it was certain that he was a friendly guy.

"I have a terrible cold," he said.

"I also catch a cold and have a flu.

After 10 minutes, I was talking about my personal career. However, he seemed to be thirsty, leaving slowly, and my heart was left without being hurt. London is a lonely place.

Today, I submitted evidence in a county court as an economic insect science expert in litigation on furniture damage by ticks. What ironic! (See June 30, 1911).

October 11th

I'm weak, grated, and whimsical fools, but one day I can't help but love her, I'm indifferent and sometimes disliked. She was attractive today, and her face and hair had warm gloss. And she loves me. "And when a woman is skeptical." I say, etc., how difficult it is for a lonely and lonely man to go against her. He says he loves it.

I want to be forever and irresistible. I want a Boo Leversman.

October 13th.

I had a Harry Treate Ophthalmologist examined about one eye eyesight. Recently, this eyesight has caused many worries and worries, and has been suffering from blindness. Occasionally, walking people look like wood, and prints are desperately blurred.

But specialists are encouraging. The eyeballs are healthy and have no neuritis, but the adjustments have become strange due to nerve trouble last spring.

Did you have such a temptation? With an oxyge n-like heart, he is spending lonely and uncomfortable days in a digging hut. Do you want to do so? Yes, but. I have no health or wealth.

October 22nd

British Museum Reading Room

October 17th

For those who are not just sheep, not cows, or those who are more sensitive than the village blacksmiths, they are independent, have love and hatred, have an independent identity in other independent identities, and are medium. Those who wander, growl, fight, catch you, boring you, gets frustrated, evokes you all your passion, and evokes the worst from the hidden depth It is a danger to threaten the peace of mind. When I spend a day with my friends, I fall in a frenzy in the evening. I am no longer suitable for human fellowship. People hang me on the concert pitch. Some people like prying, and some are ease. Another person wants to know what they think of me, and wants to know what they think of me. Also, there is no particular reason, but some hatred and hated and irresistible. There is a person I know and doesn't know anything at all. You may be a Jew, may be a Gentile, a Soshinian, a former Adam, may be an Anaba Pettist, or a Rosicrucian. I want to beat his face. I don't know why. In a delicate relationship, we exchanged only a dozen times. Nevertheless, I want to blow off my face with dynamite. If I had a 10 0-pound income a year, I would bend the corner tomorrow and ambush him and hit him with a dynamite just to show my economic independence. He will call the police.

R said this morning with a curiosity of my blood boiling. "This beast is" and I left.

R-shouted with a laugh, but he realized that his anger was only half serious. For those who are not just sheep, not cows, or those who are more sensitive than the village blacksmiths, they are independent, have love and hatred, and have an independent identity in other independent identity. , Wandering, groaning, fighting you, catching you, boring you, frustrating you, evoking you all your passion, and being ready to evoke the worst from the depths that were hidden. Being moving around the people at all times is a danger of threatening the peace of mind. When I spend a day with my friends, I fall in a frenzy in the evening. I am no longer suitable for human fellowship. People hang me on the concert pitch. Some people like prying, and some are ease. Another person wants to know what they think of me, and wants to know what they think of me. Also, there is no particular reason, but some hatred and hated and irresistible. There is a person I know and doesn't know anything at all. You may be a Jew, may be a Gentile, a Soshinian, a former Adam, may be an Anaba Pettist, or a Rosicrucian. I want to beat his face. I don't know why. In a delicate relationship, we exchanged only a dozen times. Nevertheless, I want to blow off my face with dynamite. If I had a 10 0-pound income a year, I would bend the corner tomorrow and ambush him and hit him with a dynamite just to show my economic independence. He will call the police.

R said this morning with a curiosity of my blood boiling. "This beast is" and I left.

R-shouted with a laugh, but he realized that his anger was only half serious. For those who are not just sheep, not cows, or those who are more sensitive than the village blacksmiths, they are independent, have love and hatred, have an independent identity in other independent identities, and are medium. Those who wander, growl, fight, catch you, boring you, gets frustrated, evokes you all your passion, and evokes the worst from the hidden depth It is a danger to threaten the peace of mind. When I spend a day with my friends, I fall in a frenzy in the evening. I am no longer suitable for human fellowship. People hang me on the concert pitch. Some people like prying, and some are ease. Another person wants to know what they think of me, and wants to know what they think of me. Also, there is no particular reason, but some hatred and hated and irresistible. There is a person I know and doesn't know anything at all. You may be a Jew, may be a Gentile, a Soshinian, a former Adam, may be an Anaba Pettist, or a Rosicrucian. I want to beat his face. I don't know why. In a delicate relationship, we exchanged only a dozen times. Nevertheless, I want to blow off my face with dynamite. If I had a 10 0-pound income a year, I would bend the corner tomorrow and ambush him and hit him with a dynamite just to show my economic independence. He will call the police.

R said this morning with a curiosity of my blood boiling. "This beast is," I left and left.

R-shouted with a laugh, but he realized that his anger was only half serious.

Of all the heavy and funny accidents that have fallen at my feet, the friendship with a man like B-- is the most heavy and funny. He is a bachelor of sixty, rather handsome, of strong build and excellent constitution. His ignorance is so great that he once asked me whether Australia, surrounded by sea, was not under the sea a chain of other lands. Being himself a child in intellect (though commercially cunning), he has a great respect for my brains. He is a strong man himself, but looks with contempt on my ill health. In his private opinion, I am wasted. When a lady asked him if he would one day be a "great man," he replied: I must walk six miles a day, drink a bottle of stout for dinner, and eat a lot of onions. His belief in the curative properties of onions is as strong as death's.

His preventative methods, briefly summarized, are as follows:

(1) Drink hot whiskey and go to bed.

He often recommended these two excellent preventive measures to me.

He is a cynic. He laughs at the medical profession, the law, the church, and the press. Everyone is guilty until proven innocent. The Prime Minister is an unscrupulous man, the Bishop is a lewd quack. No doctor cures the sick. Every clergyman puts the Sunday school teacher in the way of the family. The clergyman's mouth is always twisted with sarcasm.

He is very vain and believes that all women are in love with him. When he plays the gallant, he has a special voice, wears white spats, and looks like a Newmarket "Crook." [Page 103]

"I've lost my bus. "I've lost my bus," one girl told him. "I can't believe you did that." . His sexual history is astonishing, and he has invited many women to his bed, and in fact, he says he has slept with women of almost every nationality in Europe.

This man is my devoted friend, and to tell the truth, I find him better than any other man. I like his fleshiness, his lack of self-consciousness, and his dog-like loyalty to me, his brother. His habits may be depraved, his language may be crude, his manners may be unrefined. But I like him because I can't help it. My missionary spirit is not aroused. If he only dabbles in vice (for the sake of experimentation), if he has a bland and watery idea of current literature, if he is refined, to use his own favorite expression, I should quarrel.

October 30

I am engrossed in R. Beerzig's sculpture "Reifenwerferin" (The Most Beautiful Female Figure). I am already in love with Rodin's "The Kiss," and have a framed copy of it hanging in my bedroom. I wrote to Burciani.

I wonder if my appreciation of plastic art is merely an extract of sensuality. For the same reason, I enjoy my morning bath. My bath is my daily baptism. I delight in the pain of the cold water. I whistle with glee because it's clean and cool and nude in the early morning when the sun is low, before the day is sullied by clothes, dirt, pain, frustration, and death. How I love myself as I scrub myself off! I want to soak in a cold bath all day and enjoy the pain that damages my flesh. [Pg 104]

November 8

The other morning R. said to me with a flourish, "I couldn't sleep all night, afraid that I would go into a 'tangle' before you could put your hand on my shoulder and say 'stop'." .

No, I'm as solid as a rock. But in my imagination, the relationship went like this:

Her: "I love you"

Her: "Please don't say that, it's embarrassing."

Her: "Oh no, you're not serious, you're a show-off."

Him: "Well, it's just as embarrassing either way."

She: "Okay, I'm serious then."

I say: "I want you to think of me as a nigger who has no good intentions, but who doesn't mean anything bad either, but who you think has attractive manners nonetheless."

I felt free to breathe and was about to leave, having escaped this terrible temptation. But she looked up, smiling through the curtain of her wet eyelashes, and asked:

"Won't the nigger stop a little longer?" In an instant my rams, rams, rams collapsed, and I hurled myself into her arms, crying:

I dramatized this little picture and many others last night before I went to sleep in a fever. I easily succumb to a really good coquette.

November 9th

We played ludo together this evening, and she, in a handsome suit of 2s. 6d. black, with black finery, sat with me in the lamplight on the sofa in the Morris Room. Her face was white as parchment, and her hair black as ebony. I lay in the opposite corner. A slender, lanky young man, with fair hair, in a light brown lounge suit with tightly creased trousers, a soft linen collar, and a red tie! Between us lay the Lourdes board, with its brightly colored squares on a green cushion.

"Rather decorative," she said, tilting one side of her head in doubt. I think so. She looked very fine.

November 21

My nightmare

I can't stop coughing. I have so many things to do, and I live in a hurry to get them done. But this cough gets in the way. Something is always pulling me back from achieving my dreams. It's like a nightmare, and I see myself struggling violently to escape from a monster that is constantly approaching me. The only difference is that I never wake up from the nightmare. The paradise of success is still far away. Oh, hurry up.

November 29

The English Review sent my essay back. "I would like to use this, but I'm really overwhelmed," the editor wrote. Faint encouragement, subtle rejection - why I prefer the printed form.

December 1.

My cold comes back, and I spend the whole day blowing my nose, coughing, and cursing Austin Harrison.

I think M is okay with the lungs. "I don't think there is anything," he said this morning. Allelujah! I had a feeling of falling down for a week, and M also anticipated it. I'm always running away. I've always been about to get on something, I'm about to do something, I'm about to go somewhere, and I've been working on various illnesses, but I've never been completely [2]. 。 Instead of tuberculosis Stevenson, I just became an indigestible Jones. In other directions, big events always missed me. As a result of the hard work, I succeeded in stopping the newspaper reporter and breaking the iron environment, but it was only to be an insect scholar! He was successful in the academy essay and attracted attention. I hadn't reached yet. That's always the case.

Yesterday, the editor of "Furniture Record" visited as a state guest and asked for advice on how to exterminate ticks from chairs! I greeted him ironic, but he hardly understood.

To the animal (once I loved the study), I jumped out like a ball on the Bagatel board, but quickly rolled into a very low hole called economic insect studies! Cursed. Why can't I get a leading illness or become a top animal?

If I was a newspaper reporter who studied a genius outbreak from F. M. BALFOUR'S TEXTBOOK, I would have been a good person from an artistic point of view. From the Balfore's "Textbooks", sel f-taught genius occurrence, cut out chicken eggs and embryos in a handmill with a handmi clotome, passionately dissect the hidden internal anatomy of a wide variety of animals. The difference between the nephridium and the nephridium and the kidney and frontal leaves without shaking the hair, the history of the kidney and backless (the kidney, the kidney leaf, the kidney leaf, the middle of the kidney, and the middle of the kidney, without shaking the hair. , The history of all tubes (what is the absorption power!) And now it's a waste. You may be a leading comparative anatomist.

December 3rd.

The cold got better. Return to work and drink ale with a dummy dumpling as R says.

December 9 M thinks the lungs is OK. "I don't think there is anything," he said this morning. Allelujah! I had a feeling of falling down for a week, and M also anticipated it. I'm always running away. I've always been about to get on something, I'm about to do something, go somewhere, and I've been working on various illnesses, but I've never been completely [2]. 。 Instead of tuberculosis Stevenson, I just became an indigestible Jones. In other directions, big events always missed me. As a result of the hard work, I succeeded in stopping the newspaper reporter and breaking the iron environment, but it was only to be an insect scholar! He was successful in the academy essay and attracted attention. I hadn't reached yet. That's always the case.

Yesterday, the editor of "Furniture Record" visited as a state guest and asked for advice on how to exterminate ticks from chairs! I greeted him ironic, but he hardly understood.

December 3rd.

The cold got better. Return to work and drink ale with a dummy dumpling as R says.

December 9 M is OK for the lungs. "I don't think there is anything," he said this morning. Allelujah! I had a feeling of falling down for a week, and M also anticipated it. I'm always running away. I've always been about to get on something, I'm about to do something, I'm about to go somewhere, and I've been working on various illnesses, but I've never been completely [2]. 。 Instead of tuberculosis Stevenson, I just became an indigestible Jones. In other directions, big events always missed me. As a result of the hard work, I succeeded in stopping the newspaper reporter and breaking the iron environment, but it was only to be an insect scholar! He was successful in the academy essay and attracted attention. I hadn't reached yet. That's always the case.

Yesterday, the editor of "Furniture Record" visited as a state guest and asked for advice on how to exterminate ticks from chairs! I greeted him ironic, but he hardly understood.

December 3rd.

The cold got better. Return to work and drink ale with a dummy dumpling as R says.

December 9th

I was overcome with a vague fear. I was afraid to be alone or to stay still. I think it was because of the cough.

I had two glasses of port at the Kensington Hotel, talked to the bartender, and then went home.

10th December

"Don't be an old fossil," she told me tonight.

Dr. Sport John

"Mother, W is proposing to E! Mother, W is proposing to E! Come," I cried -- intending to confuse her. I laughed heartlessly.

Oh dear, what will happen in the end? It's sad to fall in love with a girl you don't like.

26th December

I spent the day relaxing at the flat. I kissed my sister twice under the mistletoe, went to the cinema in the evening. After dinner, I made a mock hero speech and went home in high spirits.

[1] "The life of the soul is different; nothing is more varied, more varied, more restless. It would take eternity to describe the events of one hour." - Eugénie de Guerin's diary.

[2] See entry for November 27, 1915.

February 4th

. In conclusion, I am ill again, and I resume my regular visits to the doctor, swallowing his rat poison with the same blind faith as before. In fact, I am in London, living the same lonely life, seeing no one, talking to no one, fighting this demon of ill health every day. Can no one exorcise it? Now the sight in both my eyes is failing. Blindness?

B continues to prostitute himself, drink and mock. R is as emotionless, cold, passionless, chauvinistic, self-centered, tickling his mind with etchings, sociology, music, etc.

This is my world! Oh, I forgot! There is a dead body on the floor below me. In the middle of the night the landlady sent for a doctor, but he said the old man was too old to come. The poor gentleman died alone in this rat-hole.

February 7th

I was going to buy a thre e-dollar gold flake, and I entered a Piccadilly tobacco restaurant, but I was surprised and surprised. The nobles beyond the counter had no courage to say, "I want a gold flakes." Probably there is no stock. I also didn't want to realize that I was not wealthy.

February 14th.

What year will this year will be? For the first 24 years of my life, I went up and down on the keyboard and hunt down me. But I like hunting, adventur e-like life. I don't hate being chased. I like excitement. If the prospects of my life the next day are always standing to some extent, I will yawn! I say, "What if today is sweet?" For me next week is next century.

Otherwise, the danger and uncertainty of my life, otherwise, value various small projects that seem to be worth it, and make my chest firmly embrace it. Sometimes I am afraid of whispering my living soul, and I am working on them quickly and desperately. What if the end is approaching now? Don't say anything! Let's move forward. [PG 109]

February 15th

Today, I carefully reviewed the situation and thoroughly. I looked into every aspect of my life and business performance, but everything I saw is nauseous. I can't find anything I have done, what I might do in the future. My life seemed to be a wasted wilderness. I was wrong from the beginning. From the moment of birth, I was born in this world under the wrong place and wrong conditions. Why try to overcome such a big handicap? In this mood, I accused all of my parents, inheritance, mental and physical disabilities.

This must be a kind of incipient madness. From my boyhood I remember being self-absorbed and deeply dissatisfied. No barrister had ever treated witnesses more mercilessly. After a day of this, at meals, at school, on walks, and whenever I had free time, I would silently and morbidly ask, "What is the final value of your work, cui bono?" I would think and rethink my prospects, my talents, my character, my future, and then I would go to bed in the depths of despair and dissatisfaction. In my bed I tossed from side to side, striving to arrive at some satisfactory conclusion, to the point of mental exhaustion. But this labyrinthine, dizzying mass of thoughts did not satisfy me. If I could just reassess and correct myself, now, or the next moment, or in this respect or that, I would be satisfied. So I broke and rebuilt, rebuilt and rebuilt, until at last, exhausted, and very unhappily, I fell asleep.

The next morning I was perfectly fine.[Pg110]

February 20 Day

I feel very bad. Illness, loneliness, frustrated ambition, and the daily grind all conspire to bring me down. The thought of the pistol and its end looms closer to me each day.

February 21.

After four days of the deepest depression, resentment, self-doubt, and despair, I suddenly emerged from the clouds today (perhaps the arsenic and strychnine have begun to work) and walked along Exhibition Road with the intention of visiting the Science Museum Library and consulting Schaefer's Handbook of Histology (I must watch myself carefully so that I can act as soon as my mental balance is restored). In the lobby, a woman was screaming in pain. A passer-by beside her asked her sternly, "What's wrong?" as if he was making fun of her for suffering in pain in public.

I walked right past her and pretended not to care much. Even at the library, I almost missed the opportunity.

Entomological Society

Many scalabies gathered at the venue, showing the poor insects fastened with the pin in the collection box. Professor Porton, a very scientific person, shouted, shouting at a scream that would be scared of some of Japan's butterflies and moths, the timid and modest collector. Like a powerful sheep dog, he stood up, barked "Mendel Character", "Jam Prism", and obedient flocks rushed all at once, giving a pathetic applause. When they hear that such phrases and similar phrases [PG 111] pop out from the mouth of a great man in the alumni association, they are a symbol of the religious ceremony to accept without any questions. I guess I came to think. Therefore, every time the professor says "Alero Morf", they intersect themselves and do not dare to ask what they mean.

Scottish fir

I felt "depressed" for a long time, but yesterday I saw a splendid Scotts fir on the roadside. It was tall and straight, like a pillar of the Parthenon Temple. I regained courage to that figure. It had a tonic effect. I unconsciously pulled my shoulders and renewed my vow again. It's a noble tree. The branches are gracefully hanging towards the gian t-like strength and gian t-like height, yet gentle and gentle, as if a gentle giant reaches out to the child.

A stagnant day

I went to bed late last night, so I was sleeping soundly until 9 am. I went to the bathroom, but because the door was closed, I returned to my bedroom again, and I was doing it for a while without thinking. I returned to the room again and lay down on the bed with the door open. When I rang the bell, the mistak e-brought a tumbler for shaving and a tumbler for drinking (for my digestion). When asked, she said that there was someone in the bathroom. I told me that I wanted to take a bath, so on the way she got off, she shouted, "I want to take a bath in a hurry." Her footsteps eventually became inaudible, and the family went down to the basement where they had a sleeping. The venue gathered a lot of scalabies and showed each other with the pitual insects fasted in the collection box. Professor Porton, a very scientific person, shouted, shouting at a scream that would be scared of some of Japan's butterflies and moths, the timid and modest collector. Like a powerful sheep dog, he stood up, barked "Mendel Character", "Jam Prism", and obedient flocks rushed all at once, giving a pathetic applause. When they hear that such phrases and similar phrases [PG 111] pop out from the mouth of a great man in the alumni association, they are a symbol of the religious ceremony to accept without any questions. I guess I came to think. Therefore, every time the professor says "Alero Morf", they intersect themselves and do not dare to ask what they mean.

Scottish fir

I felt "depressed" for a long time, but yesterday I saw a splendid Scotts fir on the roadside. It was tall and straight, like a pillar of the Parthenon Temple. I regained courage to that figure. It had a tonic effect. I unconsciously pulled my shoulders and renewed my vow again. It's a noble tree. The branches are gracefully hanging towards the gian t-like strength and the gian t-like height, yet gentle and gentle, as if the gentle giant reaches out to the child.

A stagnant day

I went to bed late last night, so I was sleeping soundly until 9 am. I went to the bathroom, but because the door was closed, I returned to my bedroom again, and I was doing it for a while without thinking. I returned to the room again and lay down on the bed with the door open. When I rang the bell, the mistak e-brought a tumbler for shaving and a tumbler for drinking (for my digestion). When asked, she said that there was someone in the bathroom. I told me that I wanted to take a bath, so on the way she got off, she shouted, "I want to take a bath in a hurry." Her footsteps eventually became inaudible, and the family went down to the basement where they had a sleeping. Many scalabies gathered at the venue, showing the poor insects fastened with the pin in the collection box. Professor Porton, a very scientific person, shouted, shouting at a scream that would be scared of some of Japan's butterflies and moths, the timid and modest collector. Like a powerful sheep dog, he stood up, barked "Mendel Character", "Jam Prism", and obedient flocks rushed all at once, giving a pathetic applause. When they hear that such phrases and similar phrases [PG 111] pop out from the mouth of a great man in the alumni association, they are a symbol of the religious ceremony to accept without any questions. I guess I came to think. Therefore, every time the professor says "Alero Morf", they intersect themselves and do not dare to ask what they mean.

Scottish fir

A stagnant day

Presently I heard the door open, and I cried, "Lord, be thou," and hurried down and into the bathroom to prevent any further intrusion. Then I saw my senior sister in the bath. It was empty, but black with soap! Ah, Miss--!

I dressed leisurely and had breakfast. When the table was cleared, I wrote part of an essay on Spallanzani.

Then, dizzy and tired, I rang the bell for dinner. Miss-- set the table. She was very pretty. I said, "Good morning," and she replied accordingly. I was too relaxed to be affable. The next time she came in, I said, as cheerfully as I could, "Are you ready?"

In the afternoon, I caught a bus to Richmond. There were no seats available outside, so I had to go inside. Fat, ugly, old women were sitting in a line to go and see their married daughters. At Hammersmith I sat outside, at Turnham Green I was caught in a hailstorm. It suddenly became cold, so I got off and took shelter in a shop door. It was Sunday, so of course the shops were closed. The rain, wind and hail continued for a while. Looking out at the wet, almost deserted streets, I thought the same thing.

The next bus took me to Richmond. Two young girls sat in front of me and kept looking back to see if I was playing a "game". I saw them off. I walked through the park listening to the song of the skylarks and the chatter of the jays. I sat down under an oak tree to get out of the rain, and four young people joined me for a cigarette, saying "It's the worst" and "It's not even half a pound." They gossiped and laughed like girls, and put their arms around each other's necks. At dinner last night we had duck and tomato soup, and Beeswax ("Beasley," a man who often goes with Smith) was said to have been wearing a dinner jacket [Pg 113] and a gaudy waistcoat. When I rose to go ahead, they were convulsed with laughter. I frowned.

I had tea in the Pagoda Tea-room, with dry toast and brown bread and butter. Two young men opposite me were quietly playing fools.

"Hold my hand," one of them said, loud enough for the two lovers lounging in the corner to hear. From the side, I could see them kissing in between bites of bread, butter, and jam.

As I stood up, one of the two cheerful young men took my hat and playfully placed it on top of his friend's bowler.

"I think it's my hat," I said sharply, and the young man apologized shyly. I glared at him like a 60-year-old murderer.

On the bus home, cars whizzed by and every inch of space was filled with advertising. One had a deep, musical voice and kept using it. The other had beautiful ankles and kept showing them off.

In the queue, two Italians got in. He sat at the same height as the girls, turned around to take a look at them, and called out in Italian to his friend behind him. He must have thought they were prostitutes. I was sitting behind this guy, and there was nothing else to do, so I watched his face closely. In short, he was fat, round, and greasy. His black moustache curled at the ends, his eyes were dark and bulging, and around his neck was a scarf wrapped under his dirty linen collar, as if he had a sore throat. I sat behind him and hated him doggedly.

When the three girls got off at Hammersmith, the puffy-eyed Italian watched them go with lascivious eyes, looking down at them on the pavement over the banister. I looked down too. They passed before us and disappeared. [Page 114]

I'm home and writing this. This is the content of my consciousness today. This is everything I thought, said, did, and felt. A stagnant day!

I came home with a bad case of influenza. I was miserable. All I could do was sit by the fire and mechanically read the newspaper from page one to the end. I found myself reading articles on the Lincoln Handicap and columns on kleptomania while devouring advertisements for new books with relish. My mind was a morass of the latest divorce court news, high society gossip -- "If Sir A. Goes Romeo, If Miss B. Sings True Songs" -- and advertisements. I was afraid to be alone, so I continued to read. "Hold my hand," one of them said loud enough for the two lovers lounging in a corner to hear. From the side, I could see them kissing between bites of bread, butter, and jam.

As I rose to my feet, one of the two gay young men took my hat and playfully placed it on top of my friend's bowler.

"I think it's my hat," I said sharply, and the young man apologised bashfully. I glared at him like a 60-year-old murderer. On the way home on the bus, the cars were passing by and every inch of space was filled with advertisements. One had a deep, musical voice and kept using it. The other had beautiful ankles and kept showing them off.

At the queue, two Italians got in. He sat at the same level as the girls, turned around to glance at them, and called out in Italian to his friend behind him. He must have thought they were prostitutes. I sat behind this guy, and since there was nothing else to do, I studied his face closely. In short, he had a fat, round, oily face. His black moustache had curled tips, his eyes were dark and bright and bulging, and around his neck was a scarf wrapped around the inside of his dirty linen collar, as if he had a sore throat. I sat behind him and hated him doggedly.

When the three girls got off at Hammersmith, the Italian with the puffy eyes watched them go with lascivious eyes, and looked down at them on the sidewalk over the banister. I looked down too. They passed before us and disappeared. [Page 114]

I'm home and writing this. This is the content of my consciousness today. This is everything I thought, said, did, and felt. A day of stagnation!

I came home with a bad case of influenza. I was miserable. All I could do was sit by the fire and mechanically read the paper from page one to the end. I found myself reading articles on the Lincoln Handicap and columns on Kleptomania while devouring the ads for new books as if they were delicacies. My mind was a morass of the latest divorce court news, high society gossip -- "If Lord A. goes to Romeo, if Miss B. sings the truth" -- and ads. I was afraid to be alone, so I continued to read. "Hold my hand," one of them said, loud enough for the two lovers lounging in a corner to hear. From the side, I could see them kissing between bites of bread, butter and jam.

As I stood up, one of the two cheerful young men took my hat and playfully placed it on top of his friend's bowler.

"I think it's my hat," I said sharply, and the young man apologised shyly. I glared at him like a 60-year-old murderer.

On the bus home, cars whizzed by and every inch of space was filled with advertising. One had a deep, musical voice and kept using it. The other had beautiful ankles and kept showing them off.

In the queue, two Italians got in. He sat at the same height as the girls, turned around to take a look at them, and called out in Italian to his friend behind him. He must have thought they were prostitutes. I was sitting behind this guy, and there was nothing else to do, so I studied his face closely. In short, it was fat, round and oily. His black moustache curled at the tips, his eyes were dark and bulging, and around his neck was a scarf wrapped under his dirty linen collar, as if he had a sore throat. I sat behind him and hated him doggedly.

I'm home and writing this. This is the content of my consciousness today. This is everything I thought, said, did, and felt. A day of stagnation!

I came home with a terrible cold of influenza. I was miserable. All I could do was sit by the fire and mechanically read the paper from page one to page two. I found myself reading articles on the Lincoln Handicap and columns on kleptomania, while devouring the ads for new books with relish as if they were delicacies. My mind was a quagmire of the latest divorce court news, high society gossip--"If Lord A. goes to Romeo, if Miss B. sings the truth"--and advertisements. I was afraid to be alone, so I continued to read.

At teatime, B. said, "My eyes are watering," and took a glass of Bols gin. Meanwhile, tired of blowing and wiping my nose, I sat cross-legged in a dirty armchair, my elbows on my knees, and dribbled my snot on the dirty carpet. B., of course, didn't notice anything, which was fortunate.

Any kind of hideous fool would have kindly sympathized. I like B. because his simplicity and lack of self-consciousness are charming, almost like a child's. Moreover, he often gives me presents of precious grass chips. Of course, he is a liar, but his lies are harmless, like putting milk in an infant's mouth. My lies are more dangerous. It is convenient for a hypochondriac to be treated as if he were well when he is sick.

H--'s wedding. Five minutes before the hour, I was told, I made a dramatic entrance into the church, boldly donning light cashmere trousers, lemon-coloured gloves, a top hat and a walking stick; the latter outfit was grossly unrefined.

If I were to admit a fact, it would be that I yearn for love, look for it everywhere, crave it, and am unhappy without it. She charms me. I can give myself to her if I want to. Her affection makes me want to. I am tired of living alone. I am scared of myself. My life is miserable alone, and sometimes I am hopelessly miserable when I wish someone was nearby who could sympathise with me.

I don't want to marry, so I have even persuaded R. to share an apartment with me, because I am too egotistical to want to escape responsibility.

But I am an incredibly romantic creature, and I have a wonderful ideal of a woman I will never meet, or who would never need me if I did. If R... would go flat with me, my difficulties would partly be solved. I don't love her enough to marry her. I could do that.

Humble Confession

Mr. --, the son and heir of the sir, invited me to luncheon in -- Square today. He is a handsome young man of 25, with white hair and blue eyes. It was good.

But the continuation ... I received an unexpected invitation from a young man who was too brilliant, and at first I palpitated. Too surprising, I couldn't afford to listen to his remarks, and it was a very difficult job to remember the place I had promised. The only way to talk about the fas t-paced like Alfred Jingle is to cut out a part of the sentence, choose the best from among them, or fall into hell. When I said "I Beg Your Pardon," he was nervous again and left me in the same way.

When I arrived at his house, I first shouted the stairs to the basement: I shouted "Elsie, Elsie", and I am afraid of the parcel to the "-che" placed on the hall. I stared with me. Before lunch, we sat in his small room and talked about "-", but I could not regain calm. He had lunch together with the Sir's son, became interested in each other, and could not forget that the sister's sister came directly or the Lord came. I felt like a scared rabbit. How should I say hello to the nobles? I tried to remember, occasionally, thought in the Shire region for unknown reasons, and saw a lady C who served tea and sugar over a small village bakery. I enjoyed the contrast.

He then recommended me a cigarette. It was a Turkish cigarette, and one end was blocked by fluff to absorb nicotine. At that time, I was in a hurry, so I didn't notice this and ignited the wrong one. He pointed out that he made a mistake in perfect skill and calm, abandoned tobacco and had another one.

At this time, I was completely nervous. Pride, regret and excess sel f-consciousness were entangled with all my movements like a net. I asked: Is there a correct answer and incorrect answer? " Lord's son pointed to the end of the fluff, which turned black in my match.

"Did it not burn well?" But the continuation ... I received an unexpected invitation from a young man who was too brilliant, and at first I palpitated. Too surprising, I couldn't afford to listen to his remarks, and it was a very difficult job to remember the place I had promised. The only way to talk about the fas t-paced like Alfred Jingle is to cut out a part of the sentence, choose the best from among them, or fall into hell. When I said "I Beg Your Pardon," he was nervous again and left me in the same way.

"Oh, beautiful knees. He bent down and tied my garter."

"Did it not burn well?" But the continuation ... I received an unexpected invitation from a young man who was too brilliant, and at first I palpitated. Too surprising, I couldn't afford to listen to his remarks, and it was a very difficult job to remember the place I had promised. The only way to talk about the fas t-paced like Alfred Jingle is to cut out a part of the sentence, choose the best from among them, or fall into hell. When I said "I Beg Your Pardon," he was nervous again and left me in the same way.

"Did it not burn well?"

The wonderful tobacco with the right and left edges is surely a special brand sold only at high prices, and must have some secret virtue [PG 117]. Once again, the handsome Mr.-taking out the silver cigarette case, chose the second cigarette for me, and gave me between his long and delicate fingers.

I was still too scared, I wasn't able to fully demonstrate my abilities, and he seemed too tired of walking around the reception as one of the bourgeoises. I only thought that fluff was like a aristocratic prodigy conspiracy, trying to invite me to a bad habit of smoking or drinking velonal. I tried to ignite the tip of the cigarette again.

"Please light the other edge," said the young man. I blushed my face and immediately regained balance.

After lunch (we were sitting alone), he went up the stairs many times and shouted in the kitchen, and I don't think he was bothering the cook (he was the key) He said he came back late without having it. He smiled calmly and decided to pamper Mrs. A. That pampering attitude was a betrayal of an unwilling sense of security in his unwavering social status. In the frustration of the Cook, the satisfaction of the modest praise was visible and hidden. She wanted Charles to call Mrs. Austin. Alright, let's do so! He smiled at this small weakness (de Haute EN BAS ...). The wonderful cigarette with this right and left edge is surely a special brand sold only at high prices, and must have some secret virtue [PG 117]. Once again, the handsome Mr.-taking out the silver cigarette case, chose the second cigarette for me, and gave me between his long and delicate fingers.

"Please light the other edge," said the young man. I blushed my face and immediately regained balance.

After lunch (we were sitting alone), he went up the stairs many times and shouted in the kitchen, and I don't think he was bothering the cook (he was the key) He said he came back late without having it. He smiled calmly and decided to pamper Mrs. A. That pampering attitude was a betrayal of an unwilling sense of security in his unwavering social status. In the frustration of the Cook, the satisfaction of the modest praise was visible and hidden. She wanted Charles to call Mrs. Austin. Alright, let's do so! He smiled at this small weakness (de Haute EN BAS ...). The wonderful tobacco with the right and left edges is surely a special brand sold only at high prices, and must have some secret virtue [PG 117]. Once again, the handsome Mr.-taking out the silver cigarette case, chose the second cigarette for me, and gave me between his long and delicate fingers.

"Please light the other edge," said the young man. I blushed my face and immediately regained balance.

I enjoyed this small experience. When I thought in my heart (as the housekeeper decides an answering machine), I ended up with the conclusion that socially vocational lovers are not so vulgar. It may be a boring man. In particular, if you sit on your fingertips on a spherical belly decorated with a golden chain, [PG 118] If you continue to talk about the label on a black bottle with gum, it is even more so. 。 He's a prid e-in shop, but to be truth, we all feel a little interest in him. He is a traveler from the old country, and sometimes we want to hear his adventure and what he has experienced. He crossed the major area of human experience, met strangers, and stayed at a stranger. Similarly, men who have descended from the world, such as fools, drinking, and embezzlers, may make us boring with a sincere sympathy for themselves, but his story attracts us. Walking all the keyboards, regardless of the social status, must be a wonderful experience in a single life. I want to be a person who plays a barrel organ or (better), who has once played an organ, and now I want to be a person who lives in Parklane. Once the status rises, the status will not decrease forever.

Today, I heard that I sighed, and asked what it means. "The sparks are just flying upwards," he said.

A villain is often not aware of a considerable part of his evil. If he accuses evil, he will honestly deny it.

An insect scholar is a hairy man with an antenna e-like eyebrows.

Because of my chronic constipation, I gained incomparable knowledge of all laxatives, deposits, and deposits. Currently, I am planning gunpowder plan twice a week. It's an abominable thing. Literature optimal for toilet: Puzzle of painting.

Stupid bird

Today, B-asked a fat priest, who is more polite and polite, and occupies the top seats of the bus more than fair.

"Do you not get up or do you leave it?" [PG119]

The stupid bird was sitting almost just above B, mistakenly bomb and eggs.

"I'm sorry," the president replied.

B ... was an ugly scotch accent and repeated questions with further emphasis.

"I'll be here until I get off immediately."

"And B-said.

"What does it mean?" A fat man was angry at the falsetto.

"This is it," B moaned and moved his body sideways, so the poor man was about to slip down on the floor.

The police who walk in a row are always laughing. One police officer is "Policeman", but many people are lined up in Coppers. This is one of W. S. Gilbert's heritage, and I am sharply doubted that Pirates of Penzance may be part of the national consciousness.

When igniting Chloe's cigarette

Today R says he intends to write lyrics to ignite Chloe's cigarette.

"And have a vertical match or side, or put on a dark place or in a bright place. Needless to say that it is to last for a long time. "

"Chloe is now wearing a charming blouse that opened in V-shaped before. My aunt last night," How about Chloe's blouse? Not too low? My mother is a small rop covered with fur. Looking closely at the year, he answered, "No, Maria, I don't think so."

"What a stupid! Why V-shaped is a certain path [PG 120]? I told R-." I'm sorry I'm sorry for those old women. 。

Carlille called Lamb the sneaky abortion. What a crime! B, "This is it," B moaning and moved his body sideways, so the poor man was about to slip down on the floor.

When igniting Chloe's cigarette

Today R says he intends to write lyrics to ignite Chloe's cigarette.

"And have a vertical match or side, or put on a dark place or in a bright place. Needless to say that it is to last for a long time. "

"What a stupid! Why V-shaped is a certain path [PG 120]? I told R-." I'm sorry I'm sorry for those old women. 。

Carlille called Lamb the sneaky abortion. What a crime! "This is it," said B, moaning and moving sideways, so the poor man was about to slip down on the floor.

When igniting Chloe's cigarette

Today R says he intends to write lyrics to ignite Chloe's cigarette.

"And have a vertical match or side, or put on a dark place or in a bright place. Needless to say that it is to last for a long time. "

"What a stupid! Why V-shaped is a certain path [PG 120]? I told R-." I'm sorry I'm sorry for those old women. 。

Carlille called Lamb the sneaky abortion. What a crime!

I had a savage fit. Up to a certain point, perhaps, but beyond that, anxiety turns to recklessness. The stimulants gave me indigestion and an intermittent heartbeat, which scared me. During the past week, in crisis situations, I would suddenly faint and collapse in the street, in the garden, or wherever, but I rebelled against this humiliating fear. I walked briskly down the street, with my shoulders drawn back and a beat dropping every two or three steps. I looked at it with a bitter smile and felt the need to stop or go. In the shop of a certain photo shop, there was a picture of a very beautiful woman. I looked at her with an angry gaze through the glass, and remembered how she had looked out with the same expression at the butcher's boy and even at the lamplight. The thought of having to leave her for another man made me angry. To me, she was the symbol of all the joys of life. Such helplessness infuriated me, and I walked down the street with a feeling of uneasiness. But please do not think that I was worried. I was not. The iron went into me, and I went on with cynical indifference, waiting to be crushed.

. She means a lot to me. I guess I love her a lot, after all.

A bad heart attack all day. An intermittent heart attack is a very sophisticated torture for someone who wants to live so much. The pump goes "dot," I say "a stitch in the tooth," I take a deep breath, I shake hands with my friend, I start my farewell speech, and I order another beer.

In the cage of my rib cage it is a belligerent animal, and I don't know when it will break free and run away with my dear life between its fangs. I humour it and cajole it, but God, I don't have much faith in this little beast. It seems my rib cage is an intolerable kennel.

I'm feeling very cheerful, until the seagulls fly overhead in Kensington Gardens and stir up my envy.

With my brother A-- in L--. That big man is in top form and very happy with his love for N. He is a very delightful creature and I love him more than anyone else in this wide world. There is an almost feminine tenderness in my love.

We had a good day, talked, discussed, and insulted each other. In such a spiritual assembly, we are pleased to be anesthetized for discussions, and if a third party looks at it, we must think that we are in the midst of a fierce quarrel. We cleverly searched for each other's weaknesses, with malicious intent, and grudge. Neither us hesitate to use such personal confession. In fact, there is a terrible joy in searching for a turnover word and confirming its effects to test the strength of our affection. We raise and defeat each other's precious ideals like aunt Sally, alternate irony, satire and contempt, and shake their hands vigorously (PG 122] is for us. It is a wonderful trick, the face is flushed, the finger is pointed out, the table is tapped, and a little dispute is established. But it's all smoke. It is like the law of gravitational and cannot be objection.

It is the root of our being, the air we are breathing!

One day, R-explains that while being blown by Sirocco in Naples, his death was approaching. It was an obviously isolated experience, and I was able to talk a lot about it, so I made me a little boring. When he talked, I took out the envelope from my pocket, where my name and three addresses to deliver to the police when I fainted was written. This has been around for several years, and used to have a brandy flask.

She had a dark blue eyes and the most important and small nose for all the men staring at her. In between acting, she listened to her lively conversation, like a magic bull. Her cheerful was to emphasize her nose up and down, and by the end of the third act, she was completely captivated. A lucky dog! We had a good day, talked, discussed, insulted each other. In such a spiritual assembly, we are pleased to be anesthetized for discussions, and if a third party looks at it, we must think that we are in the midst of a fierce quarrel. We cleverly searched for each other's weaknesses, with malicious intent, and grudge. Neither us hesitate to use such personal confessions. In fact, there is a terrible joy in searching for a turnover word and confirming its effects to test the strength of our affection. We raise and defeat each other's precious ideals like aunt Sally, alternate irony, satire and contempt, and shake their hands vigorously (PG 122] is for us. It is a wonderful trick, the face is flushed, the finger is pointed out, the table is tapped, and a little dispute is established. But it's all smoke. It is like the law of gravitational and cannot be objection.

It is the root of our being, the air we are breathing!

I went to the playboy to see Irish Players. What I was sitting in front of me was a bristle beard with sandy sand like a bristle like a bristle of a housekeeper, a chopped face like a buttocks, and a tremendous crafted voice rather than speaking. He was an attractive Irish girl taken by a lump of a man.

She had a dark blue eyes and the most important and small nose for all the men staring at her. In between acting, she listened to her lively conversation, like a magic bull. Her cheerful was to emphasize her nose up and down, and by the end of the third act, she was completely captivated. A lucky dog! We had a good day, talked, discussed, and insulted each other. In such a spiritual assembly, we are pleased to be anesthetized for discussions, and if a third party looks at it, we must think that we are in the midst of a fierce quarrel. We cleverly searched for each other's weaknesses, with malicious intent, and grudge. Neither us hesitate to use such personal confession. In fact, there is a terrible joy in searching for a turnover word and confirming its effects to test the strength of our affection. We raise and defeat each other's precious ideals like aunt Sally, alternate irony, satire and contempt, and shake their hands vigorously (PG 122] is for us. It is a wonderful trick, the face is flushed, the finger is pointed out, the table is tapped, and a little dispute is established. But it's all smoke. It is like the law of gravitational and cannot be objection.

It is the root of our being, the air we are breathing!

After the play, this small Irish maiden stopped in my eyes and became physically impossible to confirm the smile. Five seconds later, she saw me if I was still smiling and smiling. After that, at the railway home that I followed after her, I got into her eyes again (I wondered if there was such a lucky man), and we got on the same vehicle. However, the woman also got into the same vehicle. Opera hat, lace frills, protruding ears, fat nose ...

Cursed! I saw her off at a high street station, but I would probably never meet again. This is the second big chance. At first it was a girl on Randy. I have regretted these two women. There must be many fun and interesting people in London.

I hurried to tell R-about the Irish girl. Her face was "shadow" all day.

I dissected the eel. According to Cassel's music magazine, the air sac is divided. The eel I opened was not. Under the vent of tail, a heart that seems to be a lymph vessel is found.

"You are a reactionist," he says.

"But why does a recoilist have to be mischievous? [Say.]

I was invited by the irony, and I participated in another discussion about marriage tonight. In fact, I have overturned some of my R--my claims for my imminent demands! Of course, the discussion was with her. After the play, this small Irish maiden caught my eyes and became physically impossible to check the smile. Five seconds later, she saw me if I was still smiling and smiling. After that, at the railway home that I followed after her, I got into her eyes again (I wondered if there was such a lucky man), and we got on the same vehicle. However, the woman also got into the same vehicle. Opera hat, lace frills, protruding ears, fat nose ...

He writes an essay about the history of insects, but gives up on writing about how to spend the cat time.

I hurried to tell R-about the Irish girl. Her face was "shadow" all day.

A violent quarrel with R about marriage. He says that love means embezzlement, taking the most careful measures to escape his passion. Like a radical suffrage theist. He first is isolated all the women he meets. He quotes Hippolutos's words and speaks like a medieval abstinence. He himself thinks it's a precious but fragile fragment of Dresden's ceramics. By refusing to jump into life, he will live a long and wel l-preserved person. I laughed and said to him.

"You are a reactionist," he says.

I was invited by the irony, and I participated in another discussion about marriage tonight. In fact, I have overturned some of my R--my claims for my imminent demands! Of course, the discussion was with her. After the play, this small Irish maiden stopped in my eyes and became physically impossible to confirm the smile. Five seconds later, she saw me if I was still smiling and smiling. After that, at the railway home that I followed after her, I got into her eyes again (I wondered if there was such a lucky man), and we got on the same vehicle. However, the woman also got into the same vehicle. Opera hat, lace frills, protruding ears, fat nose ...

January 19th

I hurried to tell R-about the Irish girl. Her face was "shadow" all day.

He argued violently with R about marriage. He says that love means embezzlement, taking the most careful measures to escape his passion. Like a radical suffrage theist. He first is isolated all the women he meets. He quotes Hippolutos's words and speaks like a medieval abstinence. He himself thinks it's a precious but fragile fragment of Dresden's ceramics. By refusing to jump into life, he will live a long and wel l-preserved person. I laughed and said to him.

"You are a reactionist," he says.

"But why does a recoilist have to be mischievous? [Say.]

I was invited by the ironic fate, and I participated in another discussion about marriage tonight. In fact, I have overturned some of my R--my claims for my imminent demands! Of course, the discussion was with her.

Marriage is an economic trap for young people who do not work with wisdom, and I did not intend to enter such a dangerous course even if I had a chance (to make myself stiff). 。 Miss-, who said to me, who was hitting my principle, "I jumped in and what the result would be" until the day before, that I was a strange person about me. An old woman who is afraid to go out without an umbrella, an old tabby cat who is afraid to go away from the kitchen fire.

"Yes, I'm afraid to go out without an umbrella. I won't get wet unless it gets wet. If it's raining or passionate, I fall in love. I'm not afraid to get wet, but I'm not going to look for bad luck.

Because I played a role.

In fact, I had a terrible cheating with her. I know it. And now I am afraid of marriage. I want an egoist and want a princess that draws the royal blood. "

A few days ago, he issued his personal advertisement to a newspaper company to find an Irish girl living in Knoting Hill Gate. Today, they have returned gold and advertisements to misunderstand me as a white slave merchant. By that time, Irish girls would have fallen into hell. Use your personal book box for sweets or monkey trees. [PG125] (English

It's raining heavy. I just finished dinner. On the street, a traveling musician sings sadly "O Rest in the Lord". In a dirty small living room, I felt very restless, put on a hat, put on a cloak, and walked toward the station to read the newspaper. The outside of the window was very dark and gloomy, and I couldn't stand hungry and looked into some windows where you could see a happy and comfortable room. Occasionally, lightning rings, and lightning brightly illuminates the deserted and dirty in the station waiting room. A desolate paper piece is scattered on the floor, and a sweeper who has been hit by the rain in one corner is exposed without moving. Both hands are deeply put in pants pockets, spread their feet, close their eyes and lie. He looked like the last man in this world. There is no figure at the station. There is no train. And this is June!

Shirami's measurement

That day I measured the legs and antennae of lice to two decimal points!

How amazing this is to an amateur! Indeed, I hope so. I don't mind being called eccentric. It almost seems fitting that an incurably diseased dilettante like me should make a living by measuring the legs of lice. I'd like to believe that such a strange way of life suits my incurably diseased frivolity.

The best woman in the best dress looks lewd at the drop of her stockings.

I fear the great things of art and science. I fear the thirst that would make me want to drink up the sea. My mind is a confused and miscellaneous thing. The world is too distracting. I cannot apply myself for long. London bewilderes me. It is like De Quincey's opium dream.

Professor Geo. Saintsbury's book on Elizabethan literature is interesting. There is no doubt that George is a very cultivated and cultured man. Listen to him calling, among other things, Merton, those who cannot read Homer in the original and those who have never been to Oxford. He also says, "non so che for je ne sais quoi."

I put the book on the mantelpiece and began to explain and expound on it as if she were the patient and I was the doctor. She seemed a little annoyed by my preaching attitude and very fascinated by my medicine. I read the book in one go last night and it boiled over.

"I guess I've come at a bad time. "I'm so sorry. Try reading it three times a day after meals (without giving up your current manual for that, of course). I was just joking.

Finally, in a calm, terrified, thoughtful voice, she replied, "I told you to stop and walk around as if it were your own home, and you're playing the piano."

I was pretending to be calm, but my heart was very surprised and the trembling did not stop. I left for a while.

"If you think so, it's fine. Goodbye."

There was no reply.

"Goodbye" was repeated.

She continued to read the novel silently, and I was upset and approached the door.

While saying "Oh," I left her room with her, though I'm sorry.

I met Miss- in the aisle. "Are you already going?

"Goodbye" I said sadly. "It was a very tragic parting.

At Albert Hall

In the afternoon of this day, it was a mountain in my life. It was two hours of staring at the infinite world, like an eagle sitting on a rock.

If the human soul can grow like a negative, its effects will be visible. Divide the arena into a number of small rooms so that you can perform all the various movements of the body and limbs that music promotes, without worrying about the eyes, without worrying about the eyes. It is torture to be pushed into seats that cannot be beaten or shaken on one leg. I was pretending to be calm, but my heart was very surprised and the trembling did not stop. I left for a while.

I dissected the sheld lake. I discovered the unusual asymmetry of spinning and enjoyed it very much.

There was no reply.

She continued to read the novel silently, and I was upset and approached the door.

While saying "Oh," I left her room, thinking I was sorry.

I met Miss- in the aisle. "Are you already going?

"Goodbye" I said sadly. "It was a very tragic parting.

At Albert Hall

In the afternoon of this day, it was a mountain in my life. It was two hours of staring at the infinite world, like an eagle sitting on a rock.

When I got home, I was waiting for me when I arrived at the house

If the human soul can grow like a negative, its effects will be visible. Divide the arena into a number of small rooms so that you can perform all the various movements of the body and limbs that music promotes, without worrying about the eyes, without worrying about the eyes. It is torture to be pushed into seats that cannot be beaten or shaken on one leg. I was pretending to be calm, but my heart was very surprised and the trembling did not stop. I left for a while.

Stay at the seaside

There was no reply.

This was mysterious. fish? So what is a squid?

She continued to read the novel silently, and I was upset and approached the door.

"How long have you lived in C--?"

I met Miss- in the aisle. "Are you already going?

"Goodbye" I said sadly. "It was a very tragic parting.

At Albert Hall

I went to R and Albert Hall's Irish Empress concert. He listened to Sad Pity, Chopin's "Funeral March", "Traumarsch" in "Dusk of the Gods", "Walkure's Knight", and Bach's majestic melody.

In the afternoon of this day, it was a mountain in my life. It was two hours of staring at the infinite world, like an eagle sitting on a rock.

If it is possible to collect people suffering from illness in Albert Hall every day and keep ringing the orchestra all the time, the sick people are always exposed to the vibration of the air like heaven. Isn't it possible to regain the lost health rhythm? Certainly, if you listen to Beethoven's Symphony No. 5 at least once, our own body and soul must be reconstructed permanently. After Beethoven's symphony flows, no one can be exactly the same. [Page 128]

If the human soul can grow like a negative, its effects should be visible. Divide the arena into a number of small rooms so that you can perform all the various movements of the body and limbs that music promotes, without worrying about the eyes, without worrying about the eyes. It is torture to be pushed into seats that cannot be beaten or shaken on one leg.

The concert has restored my moral health. In the past, I loved the people who hated and were full of compassion for those who were blamed. The immeasurable happiness and the cheerful favor wrapped me like a heated light. Finally, when we stood up to sing the national anthem, we all felt a true friendship. Just as the king died, we compromised the common fate and spareed to walk on each way, even if the time came. I wanted to shake hands with everyone. It was a happy traveler, but unfortunately the journey is over and I will never meet again.

R and I walked in Kenzington Garden like two young gods!

"I pointed to Albert Memorial and said.

She continued to read the novel silently, and I was upset and approached the door.

Later, an old gaffer, who came to Tokyo from the countryside, stopped us to ask the way to Lotten Row. I wanted to walk with him and tell me the splendor of the world. [Page 129]

After breaking up with R very reluctantly-it is terrifying to be alone even though you are so enthusiastic-Walk towards round pounds, avoid the shadows of the trees, and put yourself in the scorching sun for a moment. I decided. He ridiculed the timid of the pale and lethargic people hiding in the shade of Yu's tree.

In a circular pond, the bulldog bitten a large mass of water and came across a drooling again from the end of the mouth. I greedyly looked at this old dog (very hot) and was satisfied with his and his "chop" liquid. I smiled, she saw me, smiled, and kissed again. concert has restored my moral health. In the past, I loved the people who hated and were full of compassion for those who were blamed. The immeasurable happiness and the cheerful favor wrapped me like a heated light. Finally, when we stood up to sing the national anthem, we all felt a true friendship. Just as the king died, we compromised the common fate and spareed to walk on each way, even if the time came. I wanted to shake hands with everyone. It was a happy traveler, but unfortunately the journey is over and I will never meet again.

R and I walked in Kenzington Garden like two young gods!

"I pointed to Albert Memorial and said.

I pointed to Albert Memorial and said. We pointed each other to a beautiful girl. I said (as before!) I loved everyone. R said that they missed the opportunity to come to the concert.

Later, an old gaffer, who came to Tokyo from the countryside, stopped us to ask the way to Lotten Row. I wanted to walk with him and tell me the splendor of the world. [Page 129]

In a circular pond, the bulldog bitten a large mass of water and came across a drooling again from the end of the mouth. I greedyly looked at this old dog (very hot) and was satisfied with his and his "chop" liquid. I smiled, she saw me, smiled, and kissed again. The concert has restored my moral health. In the past, I loved the people who hated and were full of compassion for those who were blamed. The immeasurable happiness and the cheerful favor wrapped me like a heated light. Finally, when we stood up to sing the national anthem, we all felt a true friendship. Just as the king died, we compromised the common fate and spareed to walk on each way, even if the time came. I wanted to shake hands with everyone. It was a happy traveler, but unfortunately the journey is over and I will never meet again.

R and I walked in Kenzington Garden like two young gods!

I pointed to Albert Memorial and said. We pointed each other to a beautiful girl. I said (as before!) I loved everyone. R said that they missed the opportunity to come to the concert.

Later, an old gaffer, who came to Tokyo from the countryside, stopped us to ask the way to Lotten Row. I wanted to walk with him and tell me the splendor of the world. [Page 129]

There is a book like a dinosaur-Sir Walter Rory's "World History", Gibbon's "Roman Empire Fall". Balzac, Napoleon, and Roosevelt who completed the human comedy. I like them all. I also like limited express trains and freight vehicles. It is fun to see the digit of the iron swaying in the air and the ice lump sandwiched between iron pliers. I always have to stop and see these things. I like all the fast and huge things: London, lightning, and poopocateepetl. I also like the smell of tar, the smell of coal, the smell of fish fries, and the sound of a brass band that plays a raging song. Why do stupid menudes need to shout women's rights just because they burned the church? All bonfires are delicious. Civilization and top hat are boring. My life is like a rabbit that was kept. If you have a long tail to leave yourself to the anger of the cat family! I want to return to nature, I want to return to chaos. There are times when I feel like I want to break the universe if I can. [1] [PG 130]

(1917: Three years after Harmageddon, I think I was ready to return to the top hat and civilization.)

Read Geo. Read Gissing's novel Born in Exile. Godwin Peake's strong sense of personality, his capacity for self-deprecation, and his sentimental languidness remind me of myself.

The instinct of worship occurs rhythmically in the morning and evening. No matter how much you are busy with your work, twice a day, no matter how much your daily routine is hypnotin, our natural urge turns to the horizon (if you are awake). It's because you're standing out for a while. However, the sunrise is a great departure, and the sunset is the end. The clouds seemed to be waiting for some rituals, seemed to be preparing a road, and there was a momentary suspense time while the clouds interchanged conversations like the court.

I finished writing the essay. But it was clearly exported. Tonight, he wrestled with another essay and spent two hours while smoking the tip of the pen. However, after a painful delivery, I only gave birth to a mere type and grammatical no n-rat rat. Sometimes I sit in front of a piece of paper with a pen and can't make a word. There is a book like dinosaurs-Sir Walter Rory's "World History", Gibon's "Roman Empire". Balzac, Napoleon, and Roosevelt who completed the human comedy. I like them all. I also like limited express trains and freight vehicles. It is fun to see the digit of the iron swaying in the air and the ice lump sandwiched between iron pliers. I always have to stop and see these things. I like all the fast and huge things: London, lightning, and poopocateepetl. I also like the smell of tar, the smell of coal, the smell of fish fries, and the sound of a brass band that plays a raging song. Why do stupid menudes need to shout women's rights just because they burned the church? All bonfires are delicious. Civilization and top hat are boring. My life is like a rabbit that was kept. If you have a long tail to leave yourself to the anger of the cat family! I want to return to nature, I want to return to chaos. There are times when I feel like I want to break the universe if I can. [1] [PG 130]

1916

(1917: Three years after Harmageddon, I think I was ready to return to the top hat and civilization.)

Kenzington Gardens dusk

I finished writing the essay. But it was clearly exported. Tonight, he wrestled with another essay and spent two hours while smoking the tip of the pen. However, after a painful delivery, I only gave birth to a mere type and grammatical no n-rat rat. Sometimes I sit in front of a piece of paper with a pen and can't make a word. There is a book like a dinosaur-Sir Walter Rory's "World History", Gibbon's "Roman Empire Fall". Balzac, Napoleon, and Roosevelt who completed the human comedy. I like them all. I also like limited express trains and freight vehicles. It is fun to see the digit of the iron swaying in the air and the ice lump sandwiched between iron pliers. I always have to stop and see these things. I like all the fast and huge things: London, lightning, and poopocateepetl. I also like the smell of tar, the smell of coal, the smell of fish fries, and the sound of a brass band that plays a raging song. Why do stupid menudes need to shout women's rights just because they burned the church? All bonfires are delicious. Civilization and top hat are boring. My life is like a rabbit that was kept. If you have a long tail to leave yourself to the anger of the cat family! I want to return to nature, I want to return to chaos. There are times when I feel like I want to break the universe if I can. [1] [PG 130]

Kenzington Gardens dusk

I took a walk in R and the countryside and had tea at my uncle's house in-. She was a lovely and small legs wearing white shoes, and when she moved across the lawn, she appeared one after another like two white rats (and R).

A small boy with a golden hair someday brings her head to her chest, has a beautiful line and depth, and is not aware of her luck or her role in beautiful pictures. "R is always called" that elegant virgin, "with great accuracy.

Yesterday, when I was sketching under the Hamas Miss Bridge, R-listened to the whistle, and when I looked up, an attractive "young" leaned on the bridge and it looks like a damosel blessed from heaven. I was smiling.

"Come down," he shouted.

She came down and talked about the picture while he was painting. Later, he walked with her to Broadway and saw her on the bus.

"Even if she was a prostitute," I said. I should have seen it home without returning together. Young, you wanted to let go of the real life at the Hamas Miss Broadway and return to important watercolors. "

"He responded mysteriously.

"If you meet her, don't introduce that abominable man. He's a hatred, and he's welcome, such as parents, money and success, but his beautiful look and a woman with beautiful skin. I can't forgive the inevitable marriage. "

R. (reflected): "I thought there was no feeling of jealousy so far.

"He answered. [And he answered.]]

"I'm an arrogant guy. I can say that I am an instinct and passion, but I'm not a pale watercolor painter. I like painting. If I show a real woman," How wonderful is it? " And if you try to touch her unexpectedly, he will be surprised, "Oh, a ticking sound." I answered brilliantly and strictly, "It's a woman's heart." I took a walk in the countryside

R-laughed and said. "More life is a truce on your desire for actual men and women. Last night, I wouldn't have replaced the last chair of Dostoevsky's" possession "in a quiet armrest chair, and the assault of Barakuraba. 。

"It's a matter of temperament." I'm a raw meat group. You like the life cooked in a book.

B. M. is a terrible hole. It doesn't give me any equipment I need. They say "yes" even if they ask a councilor to get 1, 000 pounds for the gospel for foreign gospel. If you demand a £ 20 for a new microscope, you will be told, "No, but I will cut off my nose with a big scissors."

This morning, I shouted at an ol d-fashioned Omai, a pedanical old man who worked in my room.

"If you go to a banquet hosted by the mayor, it's better to dissect quickly. There is no turtle soup."

She wasn't fine and stuck in insects by saying "Woon". She was even brighter, the pronunciation of the language became very stylish, coughed, and raised her body very carefully to say something, and she said.

"I shouldn't have reached out to the greasy greaoop like Stones (Stone Fly). I don't have the courage to see the stone.

A poor old woman. This time I'm the turn of "worm".

"It's a pretty miserable job," I added vaguely. Then, with malicious intentions, he asked if he had heard the song of Harry Lauder with a whistle and heard the song of Willie Solar's song "You loved me".

"What happened to the gold nugget?

"What happened to the warring?

"What should I sing when everything is finished singing?"

She did not answer anything and eventually said in her usual voice.

"I put Aglionin in this drawer, but I can't find it even if I want it."

"Life is like that. Life is like that."

All Europe is mobilized.

Will England also participate?

We are all waiting for the results of a million soldiers. I'm so nervous that I feel sick.

From 21st to August 24th.

I sleep with heat. I don't visit this apartment now, but her mother has been kind to me.

25th of the month.

[Living alone. R --- laughed and said. "More life is a truce on your desire for actual men and women. Last night, I wouldn't have replaced the last chair of Dostoevsky's" possession "in a quiet armrest chair, and the assault of Barakuraba. 。

"It's a matter of temperament." I'm a raw meat group. You like the life cooked in a book.

This morning, I shouted at an ol d-fashioned Omai, a pedanical old man who worked in my room.

"If you go to a banquet hosted by the mayor, it's better to dissect quickly. There is no turtle soup."

"I shouldn't have reached out to the greasy greaoop like Stones (Stone Fly). I don't have the courage to see the stone.

A poor old woman. This time I'm the turn of "worm".

"What happened to the gold nugget?

"What happened to the warring?

"What should I sing when everything is finished singing?"

She did not answer anything and eventually said in her usual voice.

"I put Aglionin in this drawer, but I can't find it even if I want it."

"Life is like that. Life is like that."

All Europe is mobilized.

Will England also participate?

We are all waiting for the results of a million soldiers. I'm so nervous that I feel sick.

From 21st to August 24th.

I sleep with heat. I don't visit this apartment now, but her mother has been kind to me.

25th of the month.

[Living alone. ] R-laughed and said. "More life is a truce on your desire for actual men and women. Last night, I wouldn't have replaced the last chair of Dostoevsky's" possession "in a quiet armrest chair, and the assault of Barakuraba. 。

"It's a matter of temperament." I'm a raw meat group. You like the life cooked in a book.

This morning, I shouted at an ol d-fashioned Omai, a pedanical old man who worked in my room.

"If you go to a banquet hosted by the mayor, it's better to dissect quickly. There is no turtle soup."

"I shouldn't have reached out to the greasy greaoop like Stones (Stone Fly). I don't have the courage to see the stone.

A poor old woman. This time I'm the turn of "worm".

"It's a pretty miserable job," I added vaguely. Then, with her malicious intentions, she asked her if she had heard the song of Harry Lauder with a whistle and had heard the song of Willie Solar's "You Love me".

"What happened to the gold nugget?

"What happened to the warring?

"What should I sing when everything is finished singing?"

She did not answer anything and eventually said in her usual voice.

"I put Aglionin in this drawer, but I can't find it even if I want it."

"Life is like that. Life is like that."

All Europe is mobilized.

Will England also participate?

We are all waiting for the results of a million soldiers. I'm so nervous that I feel sick.

From 21st to August 24th.

I sleep with heat. I don't visit this apartment now, but her mother has been kind to me.

25th of the month.

[Living alone. ]

Since my return from Cornwall, I have put all my diaries in a special cabinet. When R. came to dinner, after a glass of Beaune and a cigarette, I opened my "coffin" [2] (a long box with brass handles on both ends) and, with some deliberation, selected a volume to read to him. R.-- grinned at this little farce and encouraged me.

September 26

The doctor's office - my life has been spent there! Specialists - Harley Street men - I have seen four, all in vain. The other day I received a letter from M.

"Come see me on Tuesday. I think we will find something we can do for you someday."

M. has a lot of pity for me, and when I leave after a visit, he always shakes my hand warmly and says, "Good-bye, old man, good luck." It's more luck than the pharmacopoeia.

My life has been a constant struggle between ill health and ambition, neither of which I have conquered. I try to reassure myself that this cursed ill health will not affect my career. I keep whipping my will, hoping that I will finally triumph. But deep inside, there is a feeling that I will never live long enough to realize myself. For a long time, my hope was to live long enough to convince others of what I would have done had I lived. That would be something. But even for that, I cannot allow myself to have too much time. I have never lived with a sense of security. I have never felt that I have a permanent residence in this life.

When I am painfully aware of the uncertainty of life here, my desires begin a mad race to be satisfied before it is too late. Every day, I am preoccupied with calculating my ill health. Every day I conquer. Every week is a victory. I am always amazed that my health and will have not collapsed! I am still working, I am still living.

One day it looks like an appendicitis, one day is unable to stop, one day is exposed to blindness, and one day the cough stops and is in danger of vomiting. So I'm in a bad dream hurricane. I am fighting the snake like Lao Cone. The snake is a neurological melancholy snake and squeezes the heart more strongly than I recognize. In order to believe that my life and work are worthwhile, I have to persuade all means. Are you convinced that you are so important that you imagine? " ) Alternatively, I have trouble with my brain, forget what I have read, and noticed that I have lost my sense of perception. My brain looks like a tumor. But I do not succumb. All day, the brain is fully rotated to remember the words and names. I wrote down things to find out in the reference book and always investigate what I remembered.

Another struggle is to spend my whole energy. It's terrible to be so impatient and love life so much. "Everyone is the Atropos," said Sir Thomas Brown.

In short, I live a miserable life in this dark, gray street, a dirty room with a murderous scenery. Now that I have no choice but to visit this apartment, I visit Doctor's Hotel and R -'s Hotel in about two houses in London. He walks on the street, stares at the window of a private house, and is hungry for a little society. I see millions of people everywhere in London, and I realize that my knowledge of them is ridiculous and limited. I want to have an acquaintance and want at least a few friends [PG 136]. If you died tomorrow, how many people did you talk to? Several maiden aunt and one or two old fossils. I want to meet a living man. However, I do not know people, do not know the country, and are lonely in the world. It looks like an appendicitis one day, one day you can not stop, one day you are exposed to blindness, and one day you will not stop coughing and will be in danger of vomiting. So I'm in a bad dream hurricane. I am fighting the snake like Lao Cone. The snake is a neurological melancholy snake and squeezes the heart more strongly than I recognize. In order to believe that my life and work are worthwhile, I have to persuade all means. Are you convinced that you are so important that you imagine? " ) Alternatively, I have trouble with my brain, forget what I have read, and noticed that I have lost my sense of perception. My brain looks like a tumor. But I do not succumb. All day, the brain is fully rotated to remember the words and names. I wrote down things to find out in the reference book and always investigate what I remembered.

Another struggle is to spend my whole energy. It's terrible to be so impatient and love life so much. "Everyone is the Atropos," said Sir Thomas Brown.

In short, I live a miserable life in this dark, gray street, a dirty room with a murderous scenery. Now that I have no choice but to visit this apartment, I visit Doctor's Hotel and R -'s Hotel in about two houses in London. He walks on the street, stares at the window of a private house, and is hungry for a little society. I see millions of people everywhere in London, and I realize that my knowledge of them is ridiculous and limited. I want to have an acquaintance and want at least a few friends [PG 136]. If you died tomorrow, how many people did you talk to? Several maiden aunt and one or two old fossils. I want to meet a living man. However, I do not know people, do not know the country, and are lonely in the world. One day it looks like an appendicitis, one day is unable to stop, one day is exposed to blindness, and one day the cough stops and is in danger of vomiting. So I'm in a bad dream hurricane. I am fighting the snake like Lao Cone. The snake is a neurological melancholy snake and squeezes the heart more strongly than I recognize. In order to believe that my life and work are worthwhile, I have to persuade all means. Are you convinced that you are so important that you imagine? " ) Alternatively, I have trouble with my brain, forget what I have read, and noticed that I have lost my sense of perception. My brain looks like a tumor. But I do not succumb. All day, the brain is fully rotated to remember the words and names. I wrote down things to find out in the reference book and always investigate what I remembered.

Another struggle is to spend my whole energy. It's terrible to be so impatient and love life so much. "Everyone is the Atropos," said Sir Thomas Brown.

This may read like a bitter cry of self-blame. But I want to give myself the pleasure of honestly describing myself at this time, and at least to gain some posthumous sympathy. Therefore, I must tell you that, capable of passionate love, I am sex-starved and endure the agony of hellish loneliness in a room with an ugly mistress's face. I have never met a woman of my class, and I am plain-looking, but I think I am not unattractive once I let my guard down. One girl said of me, "He is drawn to you." But I am hyper-critical and hyper-clean. I ask too much. I search the city every day with a hungry, hungry look. How horrible, powerful, and hateful this instinct of love is! I hate, hate, hate. I hate, hate, hate. I want to be a eunuch.

R and I say to each other brusquely, "There is a beautiful young woman."

I could gnash my teeth and cry in anger. I have been frustrated and frustrated in almost every aspect of my life, in my career, in my literary endeavors, and in the love of the sexes. In my present state of mind, I would utter a full oracle.

To me, women are a wonderful fact of existence. If there was an afterlife, and it was the place of cheerful gossip I wish it were, where people stood round the mantelpiece [Pg 137], I would slam my fist on the table.

October 11th.

Three times in my adult life I have cried. The first time was tears of frustration. My father and I sat side by side, and he was adamant, and I was forced by my conscience and reason to give in. The second time was when my mother died, and the third time was today. But now I am calm. Today was tears of self-reproach.

Sometimes the confessions of encouragement in this journal sweeten the soul and strengthen it. Confessing my secrets gives a kind of false bracing. If God really intervenes in our affairs, now is the time. Save me. I challenge him to save me from perishing in this ditch. I rarely pray when I am cornered, but I did this morning.

I myself have felt especially blessed to have the phantom of hell within me, until I have confronted it in the darkness, dominated my inner enemy, and felt myself an ecstatic victor! To give birth to dancing stars, one must embrace chaos within oneself.

But Nietzsche is no consolation to a man who was once weak enough to kneel. I prayed a little there today too. But it was all for despair, not for faith. There is inner chaos, but no dancing stars. Dancing stars are the consolation of genius. [Pg 138]

October 12th.

I feel good today. My better self is convinced that it is foolish and narrow-minded to dwell on my tiny fate. I should be grateful that I am alive, that I was alive yesterday, and that I may be alive tomorrow. That is thrilling enough. What can I complain about then? I am a lucky dog to be alive. My lot is the worst, but there are others who are worse off. I will fight bravely on Nietzsche's side, for one day a dancing star may be born!

October 13th

I spent the night at my lodgings wrestling with my will. I could not bring myself to work, nor to read a book; a terrible, vague anxiety took possession of me. I could not sit still in my chair, and walked around the table like a squirrel in a cage. I wanted to go out somewhere, talk to someone, be among human beings.

Over the past few months, I got up many times, crossed the road, if the red light was visible beyond the curtain, and if she saw it, would she be there? I saw the window of the apartment. My pride doesn't allow me to visit there again on my own. K managed to get along, but I rarely go. It's also pride again.

I wanted to do that tonight. I wanted to go down the road and look up the window. That was comfort. Why do you want to do this? I don't know. If you just see it, I will say you are in love. But I am also sick. I was about to wear boots three times tonight! What a weakness! But this room may be a terrible prison. What should I do? I can't decide. Her is always in front of her. Gentle, elegant, calm, and extending both hands. [PG139].

He picked up Trump, played a pace, and was afraid to quit and continued to play the pace. If you are weak, have a strong ambition, have a strong emotion, and at the same time very innocent, you may have known that you will be involved in trouble.

October 14th

Marie Bashkirzeff

A while ago, I noticed that the words of Marie Bashkirzeff were quoted in a book about Strong Belli. who are you? I thought.

I went to the library tonight and read about her in Matild Blind's "Journal" introduction essay. I was just surprised. It would be difficult to find a person with such a similar temperament to see the history around the world. She is exactly my saliva! I was more and more surprised and read the Matild Blind page to devour it. We are exactly the same! Oh, Marie Bashkirzef! We should have hated each other! She feels what I feel. Same narcissism, the same vanity, corrupt ambition. She is versatile, whimsical, and passionate! Her diary is my diary. Her diary is my diary. She writes all my thoughts and keeps me away! Already, I have already found some similarities that make my chest torn. What a humiliation for humans is that you are just a duplication of others. Is there a soul movement? She died in 1886. I was born in 1889.

October 15th.

A man always looks at himself in the mirror, if for no other reason than to tie his tie or comb his hair. What does he think of his face? He must have a private opinion. But exchanging opinions about one's appearance is usually considered a little bad taste.

As for myself, some mirrors look good, others depress me! I'm honestly partial to friendly mirrors. I'm not handsome, but I look attractive. But my worst moments are when my hair is combed over my forehead at the barber's, or when I see a really handsome man in Hyde Park. I reflexively look up and suspect a burglar coming in through the back door!

Today M. drove me crazy by saying that he imitates my speech and opinions as R.

R. behaves as if he were a high-ranking Foreign Office official. I, on the other hand, am shy, self-conscious and easily overlooked. We are inseparable friends, and everyone assumes that I'm his tacky-lucky, like his big-note appoggiatura. He is supposed to be my guide, my philosopher, the great Maecenas-Oxford in good terms with the proletariat. To think that I have absorbed his ideas, sympathized with his arrogance, even imitated his mannerisms and vocalizations...

The other morning, as I was coming out of R--'s room, a mean man asked me if I was lost. I could have shot him dead! . As for.... there are people who think that he is the only great writer, until he himself finally thinks so.

It is the root of our being, the air we are breathing!

"If, as I did this morning, I deny your superiority, or if you induce me to suddenly, in a fit of anger, (as I sometimes do) to declare that I hate you," (more laughter) "your breath stinks, your eyes swell, your carotid arteries swell, your face is like a saucer. To be your echo! What a thing!" I spat out. And we both grinned at each other and I was bored so I went to the bathroom and read the paper so I wouldn't be interrupted.

Resignation

On the tube, a young widow came in and sat down in front of me. She was pale, grief-stricken, meek, with a kind of "God will be" look on her face. Human adaptability is frightening. It frightens me to think how we have all adapted to this war. Christian resignation is feeble. Why doesn't this modest widow blaspheme out loud at this unjust world that allows this unjust war?

October 21

Myself (licking a stamp): "The gum tastes so good."

I: "You" (surprised, pleading): "The gum in the envelope tastes so good."

R.: "I never lick a stamp.

I'll buy a book and go to the beach."

R: "Yes, indeed.

And so we chatted pleasantly about wine, whiskey, and Worthington.

"A day really begins when the other day ends."

October 23

Today I conveyed to R-- my admiration for the brave and successful service of Submarine Commander Max Kennedy Houghton. (R was rather cold. "His achievements," said the bloody fool, "have cost lives, and I cannot bring myself to praise them like delirium."

I cleared my throat and began:

"Your precious sociology will ruin your artistic career. It is so ingrained in your brain that you cannot see anything except in relation to national values. You are afraid to endorse a lying, thieving scoundrel for fear of what Karl Marx might say. You will soon be painting landscapes with the taxpayer in the foreground, or Keir Hardy with Ben Nevis on the summit." And so we were to each other's infinite amusement.

The English Review has sent back my essay. I am simply raging at an ambition I cannot satisfy, at the beauties of London I cannot meet, and at an ill-health I cannot cure. Is there anyone good? Can I ever really be well? My only consolation is that I will not submit. I will never give up, I will never go milky. I will keep my claws sharp, and I will fight to the end.

October 24th

Take the train to Mark Lane, cross Tower Bridge, walk down Lower Thames Street back to London Bridge, then home through Whitechapel, St. Paul's, Fleet Street, and Charing Cross.

I saw a paved painter drawing bread written in French and English near Ray Ley's Taburn: "It's easy to draw, but it's difficult to earn." The baby's funeral crossed the tower bridge between pink jam cubs, pencils, matches, cotton bales and tea boxes, and all items loaded.

St. Cassins Way has a deep crossing of the railway, and one side of the long road consists of a very tall warehouse brick wall without windows. It passed by a large block of warehouses and commercial facilities, which was a wonderful sight. At the London Bridge, he stopped to feed the gull and looked down on the port worker. Outside the Billing Gate Market, a blackboard was placed on the Ezel, displaying a market price.

When I stopped by a public literature stall at Ordigate. There was a pamphlet titled "SUSPENDED for Life". The door painting was enough to make a lump in the boys' throat! At another food stall, household goods were sold, saying, "I will lend anything in this stall for $ 1." One newspaper sale told a friend who is doing the same business:

"They look at your bloody placard and pass by."

When I went to a small bookstore on Fleet Street, Paul de Koch's "Woman with three pairs of shoes" was displayed next to the photo of Oscar Wild.

Fleet Street turns the white chapel sausage restaurant into a izakaya with a "bar in a bar", and a chestnut grilled restaurant with a charcoal fire bucket that burns red into a grab streets camp follower, and "L'Ondépendance". Sell pamphlets entitled "Belge (Belgium's Independence)" and "Why WENT TO WAR (why we went to the war)".

In the strand, you can buy war maps and buttonhol flags. I bought Penny Stud. One store was a shooting place with three shots per penny, and the inner Temple lawyers between the defense and the prosecution side were looking at them when the German army came.

"They look at your bloody placard and pass by."

When I went to a small bookstore on Fleet Street, Paul de Koch's "Woman with three pairs of shoes" was displayed next to the photo of Oscar Wild.

Outside the charging cross station, a good woman wearing a mourning dress was a barre l-shaped organ. I saw a paved painter drawing bread written in French and English near Ray Ley's Taburn: "It's easy to draw, but it's difficult to earn." The baby's funeral crossed the tower bridge between pink jam cubs, pencils, matches, cotton bales and tea boxes, and all items loaded.

January 19th

When I went to a small bookstore on Fleet Street, Paul de Koch's "Woman with three pairs of shoes" was displayed next to the photo of Oscar Wild.

The best woman in the best dress looks lewd at the drop of her stockings.

Outside the charging cross station, a good woman wearing a mourning dress was a barre l-shaped organ.

Returned to the library, read the Dublin Review (Samuel Butler's article), the North American Review (Henry James's article), and dined at seven. After dinner read: Evening Standard, Saturday Westminster, New Statesman. Smoke six cigarettes and go to bed. Tomorrow Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. [Page 144]

October 25th

I was in a great mental agony from yesterday's wanderings. London lay before me like a vast campagne; but my body was too tired to explore. I could only stroll along, and record my impressions automatically, as a mere spectator. Think of the misery! I want to see the docks and docklands; I want to enter the saloons and opium dens of the East End, and talk to the Chinamen and the rascals: I want a first-class, raw knowledge of London, of London men, of London women. I was full of hope yesterday, but now I am tired, restless, and sulky, and crawl back into my nuts like a weevil. At half past six I am in the library reading the Dublin Review!

Not to mention the hearing, police court, and rural trade fair, I learned the northern life and personality, such as the autonomous committee, the protection committee, and the election campaign, and I did not have any valuable opportunities to taste it. Was it? Instead of evaluating all of these precious and pure experiences in a true value, my diary and my head were full of animals. I ignored a great opportunity, staggering, staggering, despised my limited beings, and walking around with a lively character unique to young people. Nowadays, my memory is stiff and formal instead of pushing my chair on my back, depicting a number of unbelievable events and entertained by myself and others. My memory is stiff and formal. My reminiscence only forms an irregular bleeding. Bizarre town hall manager, staff in the town (at least five wearing wonderful costumes), police officers (poached by one), cultivated game dinner (roast beef and boiled potato platters, and one day Election meeting in the village of the village (I am a student of animal with glasses, I am a student of animal with glasses, a remote EXMOA [PG 145] village (I am overnight) (And that wonderful inn where I spent the night!) It is so clear that it is not so clear, not only in the police court, and a rural trade fair, and a valuable opportunity to learn the northern life and personality, such as the autonomous committee, the election campaign. I was a foolish man, but I was full of my diary and my mind, instead of being a foolish man. Ignored a great opportunity, hampered my limited beings, and now I have a positive personality of young people, and now I walk around the chairs. Instead of describing an incredible event, my memory is formal and formal. It only forms an irregular bleeding, a town government manager, a member of the town (at least five people wore a wonderful costume), a cultivated game dinner party (one hunt one). Roast beef and boiled potato platters and brave trench huntsmen who have finished cultivation of the day. 145] Election meeting in the village (And that wonderful inn that I had to spend the night! (And that wonderful inn where I spent the night!) -The all that was too far away to talk about memories It is so clear that it is clear enough to bother me in my shared life, the police court, and the protection committee, and the election campaign. I wasn't a valuable opportunity to enjoy my personality, but I was a stupid and pure experience in my diary and my animal. It was full of learning. I ignored a great opportunity, staggering, staggering, despised my limited beings, and walking around with a lively character unique to young people. Nowadays, my memory is stiff and formal instead of pushing my chair on my back, depicting a number of unbelievable events and entertained by myself and others. My memory is stiff and formal. My reminiscence only forms an irregular bleeding. Bizarre town hall manager, staff in the town (at least five wearing wonderful costumes), police officers (poached by one), cultivated game dinner (roast beef and boiled potato platters, and one day Election meeting in the village of the village (I am a student of animal with glasses, I am a student of animal with glasses, a remote EXMOA [PG 145] village (I am overnight) (And that wonderful inn where I spent the night!) It is so clear enough.

London is right before my eyes. I am alive. But I have no energy. It's too late. I am sick and tired. It is with infinite discomfort to write this entry. All the skin on my right hand is permanently on pins and needles, and my fingertips have lost all sense of touch. My eyesight in my right eye is also very poor, and sometimes I can barely read the printed text with it. But why should I continue?

For a semi-incurable person who is forced to live almost completely isolated from society in a swirling metropolis like London, a trance-like state continues. The routine repeats as quickly as a weaving shuttle, numbing the mind and turning a throbbing life into a silent picture-story show. Everywhere, millions of strangers walk quickly along the usual streets. A bulging bag of hope, love, misery, joy, and despair is about to burst.

Apology for my life

How can I justify my continuing to tell my life story, to write my zoological memoirs, in the midst of the greatest war in history?

Well, here are some precedents: [Page 146

I answered brusquely.

Hegel wrote the last lines of the Phenomenology of Spirit amid the gunfire of Jena.

As England was torn in two by civil war, Sir Thomas Browne, living in the old town of Norwich, reflected on Cambyses, the Pharaohs, and the song of the Sirens.

There was also Diogenes and Archimedes.

This defense, of course, means that I make an unlimited assessment of the importance of my own work. "Someone said of Keats, 'As someone said of Buonaparte, 'He is a little general.'" Woman and Child

On my way to the Albert Hall, I came across the most beautiful picture of young motherhood I have ever seen. A very girlish young woman, healthy and beautiful, perfect funisque. As she stood on the curb with her little son, smiling, waiting for the bus, a radiant glow of maternal love, maternal pride and femininity radiated from her and enveloped me.

We took the same bus. She smiled happily and kissed him on her knees. These cute two people never put their lips. I couldn't believe this virgin was a mother. She must have sprouted from a boy like a plant. Only once, I was at the end of her gaze. When she returned to the boy from Kenzington Gardens, her gaze was poured into me for a moment. In fact, there was no direct evidence that she was a mother.

Albert Hall

While waiting outside Albert Hall, a strange contrast appeared in front of me. Tall, thin, like a corpse, the skin of the face is pulled tightly on the cheekbones and a thin, sharp hoo k-shaped nose, wearing brown sand shoes on the feet, and putting a long dogtail skirt. , I put on a broken straw hat and tied it under it and tied it back! The miserable soul of this 3 0-yea r-old summer (what is summer!) Standed on the side of the queue and gave a bow to the violin. She couldn't play the song, the left finger wasn't touching the strings, just holding the steering wheel.

The police passed by and muttered, "It's not" ARF "," but no one laughed. Then she began to look inside the skirt, had her right hand around the violin's neck, just like holding her child when she was at home. At the same time, the sound was emitted from her mouth with a high falset key. It was an unknown sound, a small voice of the sounded corpse under the lid of the coffin. For a moment, no one noticed that she was reading. She continued to search for the skirt while talking, "The sea, on a cold gray stone, broken, broken, broken." The sea, shattered, crushed on your cold gray stone. " But she repeated the poem. She seemed to be ashamed of her and her plights, and had little courage to push us the violin performance. We took the same bus. She smiled happily and kissed him on her knees. These cute two people never put their lips. I couldn't believe this virgin was a mother. She must have sprouted from a boy like a plant. Only once, I was at the end of her gaze. When she returned to the boy from Kenzington Gardens, her gaze was poured into me for a moment. In fact, there was no direct evidence that she was a mother.

Albert Hall

"I don't know anything about this," he desperately said.

She took a small canvas money bag from her skirt pocket and began to hand them over. With each handover, she smiled, stretched the skin over her cheekbones tighter, and muttered something. "A woman," I whispered to R. If anyone hesitated for a moment or struggled with their purse, she would unfold the bag and wait patiently, face turned away. She stood there, gazing blankly at the two lifeless eyes at the bottom of a deep hole in her almost bare skull-like head. She could not kill the will to live, so she went about her unpleasant task matter-of-factly.

She looked away, waiting for you to hand over the coppers. Why should I wait for this man's help? ". The sound of coins brought her back to her senses.

October 28

Rigor bordis! - I'm writing this as if it were a trivial matter. But tonight I was in a very bad state. I read the newspaper, then finished the book I was reading, "Thus Spoke Zarathustra." Not knowing what to do next, I took off my boots and poured myself some more coffee. But these were just the feeble attempts of a cowardly and pathetic man to get away from the main issue.

October 13th.

I had tried to go to bed before. But I still could not sleep. Moreover, I was seized by a terrible mental anxiety. It seemed horrible to sit still in a chair, much less to lie idle in bed. I had all the craving for stimulation of an indulgent neurotic, but I did not know what it was I wanted. If I had known, I should have gone for it. Dipsomania was the envy of the people.

To maintain life until bedtime, some mechanical means were needed. No one knows how much I hate patience and how much I despise the patience games. I was tired of sitting again in a chair and yawning and imagining the words I wanted to find in the dictionary. This search, which had been forgotten until then, appeared like a single light inserted into a dark room. He slowly investigated the word, took out his wristwatch, checked the time, stood up with his elbow on the mantle piece, and stared at himself in the glass. I was finally in the bay. There was nothing I could do. I wanted to talk to someone. The pride was in the way and could not call the landlady. I had no choice but to turn my back on the wall and wait for the time to release. I had only one idea. I was really miserable. However, it was so miserable that it was more miserable, so after a while he began to recover. I began to visualize my miserable situation, and did it to get out of it. I direct it in front of my heart and observe that I was the main character of the muscle writing. London's dirty streets, a dirty armrest chair of a dirty house, and a dirty daughter of a landlady sings a small gray house in the west.

This attitude has been found to be useful for sel f-defense. I enjoyed it when I drove my misfortune. [Page 150]

A light day. I was troubled by the terrible body. I wrote to the doctor that I was sliding down and heading to the sea (like a pig). Can you meet him? To maintain life until bedtime, some mechanical means were needed. No one knows how much I hate patience and how much I despise the patience games. I was tired of sitting again in a chair and yawning and imagining the words I wanted to find in the dictionary. This search, which had been forgotten until then, appeared like a single light inserted into a dark room. He slowly investigated the word, took out his wristwatch, checked the time, stood up with his elbow on the mantle piece, and stared at himself in the glass. I was finally in the bay. There was nothing I could do. I wanted to talk to someone. The pride was in the way and could not call the landlady. I had no choice but to turn my back on the wall and wait for the time to release. I had only one idea. I was really miserable. However, it was so miserable that it was more miserable, so after a while he began to recover. I began to visualize my miserable situation, and did it to get out of it. I direct it in front of my heart and observe that I was the main character of the muscle writing. London's dirty streets, a dirty armrest chair of a dirty house, and a dirty daughter of a landlady sings a small gray house in the west.

B.: "This time, tell me a big gozbury like your mother.

November 4th.

A light day. I was troubled by the terrible body. I wrote to the doctor that I was sliding down and heading to the sea (like a pig). Can you meet him? To maintain life until bedtime, some mechanical means were needed. No one knows how much I hate patience and how much I despise the patience games. I was tired of sitting again in a chair and yawning and imagining the words I wanted to find in the dictionary. This search, which had been forgotten until then, appeared like a single light inserted into a dark room. He slowly investigated the word, took out his wristwatch, checked the time, stood up with his elbow on the mantle piece, and stared at himself in the glass. I was finally in the bay. There was nothing I could do. I wanted to talk to someone. The pride was in the way and could not call the landlady. I had no choice but to turn my back on the wall and wait for the time to release. I had only one idea. I was really miserable. However, it was so miserable that it was more miserable, so after a while he began to recover. I began to visualize my miserable situation, and did it to get out of it. I direct it in front of my heart and observe that I was the main character of the muscle writing. London's dirty streets, a dirty armrest chair of a dirty house, and a dirty daughter of a landlady sings a small gray house in the west.

October 26th

November 4th.

A light day. I was troubled by the terrible body. I wrote to the doctor that I was sliding down and heading to the sea (like a pig). Can you meet him?

I drank my coffee, then found myself slowly and sadly putting on my hat and coat. I couldn't shave with my hat and coat on. I slowly unlatched the door and went out.

Shaw was boring. Mid-Victorian. I sat next to a stubborn young man reading The Freethinker.

November 9th.

In the evening I asked her to be my wife. She refused. Once, perhaps.

I don't think I have a moral right to propose marriage to any woman in my state of health, and I never really intended or hoped to do so. I just wanted her to forget about it. If I didn't really love her, it would be a complete, cruel comedy. But I have reason to believe that I do. For me, moments of obstinate passion alternate with moods of perfect, motionless self-reflection. It's a relief to say so. [Page 151]

November 10th.

"He said desperately," I'm studying fish. "

November 11th

She looks at me closely, and I seem to be in a complete mes s-tu l'as voulu, George Dandin - but that's mainly because of my ill health, not hers.

"Some things are too funny to laugh at.

"Is that why you're so serious?"

"No, I'm not so serious, I'm laughing."

She saw me off at the door and smiled quietly.

November 12th

Serious nervous breakdown. I am thinking of suicide in the browning pistol. Alternatively, he has a mysterious disappearance for 10 days, lives in a good hotel, uses all his property, and lives in a person with his eyes, nose and legs. This loneliness. Did I go crazy? If I disappear, I want to see if there is someone who is in love with me.

November 13th

I'm still thinking about suicide. It seems that there is no way. This morning, my essay was returned from the editor of "-". I have been abandoned one by one. Once my ambition was a fuel that made use of me. It is frustrated one after another, and now there is nothing to burn. Every day, I face the fact that my ambitions are overworking my abilities and health. For many years, all of my existence have mistakenly estimated their own value and focused on stupid sel f-deception. But I finally knew myself as it was. There is nothing in the future. I was tired of my life. What is other than dying?

November 14th

Before going to London tonight, I deliberately bought the London Opinon and looked for a joke or ironic for women. I practiced one joke, one Oscar Wild quotes, and one personal anecdote (the latter was almost a lie), but none of them worked.

"I don't say bad things? I asked me." I'm going to be acne, it's better to go out. People who control themselves must have a lot of terrible vows in the blood. "

"It's not the only treatment to make a curse."

R and I walked in Kenzington Garden like two young gods!

Is it strange that she doesn't love me?

Why do I paint myself with such a terrible color? Why do I feel sick of pretending to be a beast and an ironic store? He may have been hurt by sel f-esteem, realizing his loneliness, aware of how humorous he is, and suffering from most people who are looking at me with disgust.

A man like me needed a murder. [There was a book to write, there was a book to read, and there were names and fame. To do so, everything must be sacrificed. It is gone now. Any man could not endure the feminine condensed essence overflowing from her.

Still, this declaration was compensated. She is pleased with it.

The results came in. As expected, there were only three places and I came in fourth.

November 19th

In the cold of Antarctica and the devastation, I may be writing the last word of Captain Scott. Very cold. After eating hard meat and cold apple tart, I'm sitting down by the bonfire of the boarding house. I'm full of responsibility. It's very cold and I can't get it even if I get warm.

My various nervous disorders appear in various forms. This time, the peripheral circulation is poor, and the hands, arms and shoulders are always cold. The right hand is pure blue, the window is closed and a bonfire. The cold and devastation of Antarctica. London in November, seen from the dirty boards, is really scary. I feel crazy about the loneliness like the sky. It is lonely, damp, and cold in the clouds. I live that way, but I'm not a god.

October 10th.

It is humiliated to feel sick like me. If you get sick, the disease will be stimulated and you will be enthusiastic or enthusiastic. However, simply being "less than average", that is, "poor" like a rabbit, deprives my personality and mental vitality. I want to crawl and die like a rat in the hole. A healthy man like bronze afflicts me. Healthy people consider chronic sick men as leprosy. You are suspicious of something suspicious.

I'm still sick and at home.

If anything, R ---- is more promotion than me. Now he tickles himself that he is in love with a golden hair maiden from the United States. Report a fragment of conversation with her to me, avoid dangerous conversation areas, to scary joy, and handle a pencil to skillfully draw the outline of her profile and the unevenness of the chest. 。 Or talk about her nose and eyes for a long time. I can imagine that he makes a woman absorbed and accumulates the tears in a bottle as a souvenir. And when you need a little stimulation, you can always take out the bottle from the waist coat pocket and see the tears condensed.

"What if she got married to her quickly and how to end such a lazy life? I know what's the problem. You're a Jewish, a secret, a secret, and resembles J. W. M. Turner. You may be a good artist!

It is useless to discuss him. The center of his view of space is art, not life. I am interested in my life, but I can't completely leave my hood and leave myself to the bun's head. He claims that he is an audience, and looks at the big vortex from the bank, and expresses his exquisite impressions, "Oh, it's really wonderful sadness." The other day, after a fierce conversation over this topic, I painted an insect picture and cut it out and sandwiched the slip. Suddenly, he took out the box, opened while laughing and laughing.

"It's a cheerful and small sadness caught this morning." The joke rejoiced him, and we groaned.

"He smiled.

"Is it like to pierce the eyes of Cardinal Richelieu? I thanked me. (I struggled in front of his shirt in a space between waistcoat and tie to emphasize in the conversation. )

"Look at my passion for painting as a kind of diphomania.

I jumped intensely at him. If anything, R-is more promotion than me. Now he tickles himself that he is in love with a golden hair maiden from the United States. Report a fragment of conversation with her to me, avoid dangerous conversation areas, to scary joy, and handle a pencil to skillfully draw the outline of her profile and the unevenness of the chest. 。 Or talk about her nose and eyes for a long time. I can imagine that he makes a woman absorbed and accumulates the tears in a bottle as a souvenir. And when you need a little stimulation, you can always take out the bottle from the waist coat pocket and see the tears condensed.

"What if she got married to her and ended this kind of lazy life? I know what's wrong. You're the nasty, Jewish, secret, and similar to J. W. M. Turner. You may be a good artist!

"Lost salvation for sketches, as Romney abandoned his wife." If I was not married, I wouldn't have abandoned my wife. "

"It's a cheerful and small sadness caught this morning." The joke rejoiced him, and we groaned.

"He smiled.

"Is it like to pierce the eyes of Cardinal Richelieu? I thanked me. (I struggled in front of his shirt in a space between waistcoat and tie to emphasize in the conversation. )

"Look at my passion for painting as a kind of diphomania.

I jumped intensely at him. If anything, R ---- is more promotion than me. Now he tickles himself that he is in love with a golden hair maiden from the United States. Report a fragment of conversation with her to me, avoid dangerous conversation areas, to scary joy, and handle a pencil to skillfully draw the outline of her profile and the unevenness of the chest. 。 Or talk about her nose and eyes for a long time. I can imagine that he makes a woman absorbed and accumulates the tears in a bottle as a souvenir. And when you need a little stimulation, you can always take out the bottle from the waist coat pocket and see the tears condensed.

"What if she got married to her quickly and how to end such a lazy life? I know what's the problem. You're a Jewish, a secret, a secret, and resembles J. W. M. Turner. You may be a good artist!

"Lost salvation for sketches, as Romney abandoned his wife." If I was not married, I wouldn't have abandoned my wife. "

It is useless to discuss him. The center of his view of space is art, not life. I am interested in my life, but I can't completely leave my hood and leave myself to the bun's head. He claims that he is an audience, and looks at the big vortex from the bank, and expresses his exquisite impressions, "Oh, it's really wonderful sadness." The other day, after a fierce conversation over this topic, I painted an insect picture and cut it out and put the slip between the collection boxes. Suddenly, he took out the box, opened while laughing and laughing.

"It's a cheerful and small sadness caught this morning." The joke rejoiced him, and we groaned.

"He smiled.

"Is it like piercing Cardinal Richelieu? I thanked me. (I struggled in front of his shirt in a space between waistcoat and tie to emphasize in the conversation. )

"Look at my passion for painting as a kind of diphomania.

I jumped intensely at him.

"It's abnormal and unnatural. If he succeeds when he succeeds when he sees a man intentionally cut off his large branches and concentrate his power on one limb for sel f-culture. I know you want to draw a natural instinct if you fail like a fat woman in the countryside. That's right, but it's not necessary to say that the pallet grows on the chin. (It's a bad habit, I'm sorry. I'll do as much as I can, so let's have dinner tonight. "

"Oh, thank you," says the gentleman.

"I thought so too. After all, we don't agree much. After a boxing match, we don't shake hands, but for the next round, for the next round. The shape is changing. "

"Barberion says," The speech at your preaching play is worthy of more audiences. [You will preach by more. You are a philosopher and you can see the angle of the field of view. I thought I could see all the perspectives because of my wide field of view.

"To be honest, when you are in a philosophical fortress called your own armrest chair, you can see the perspective of everyone. You may sit on the other side of the carpet and the murder may be a moral act. I would like to make a temporary proposal and accept it, but when I cut my brother's abdomen. So you can beat your nose too cold, have a paint box on the snow line. "

"Very beautiful during the snow"

November 23rd

Especially in the morning, my body is loose. It is Calvary to get up from the bed and carry the burden of the day.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh," Oh, it's an old man's weakness. It's a common tissue dissolution of the organization. "It's abnormal and unnatural. For sel f-culture, a man intends to have a big branch. When he cuts it off and concentrates its power on a single limb, if he succeeds, it will be vulgar like a fat woman in the country trade fair, and if it fails, it will be just a pathetic cutting. I know you want to bend a natural instinct. You still have a bad habit, so you don't have to say it anymore. (It's a bad habit, I'm sorry. I'll do as much as I can, so let's have dinner tonight. "

"Oh, thank you," says the gentleman.

"I thought so too. After all, we don't agree much. After a boxing match, we don't shake hands, but for the next round, for the next round. The shape is changing. "

November 9th.

"Very beautiful during the snow"

November 23rd

Especially in the morning, my body is loose. It is Calvary to get up from the bed and carry the burden of the day.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh," Oh, it's an old man's weakness. It's a common tissue dissolving of the organization. It's an unusual and unnatural thing. For sel f-culture, a man intentionally cuts out his big branches, When I see that my power is concentrated on a single limb, if he succeeds, it will be vulgar like a fat woman in the country trade fair, and if it fails, it will be just a pathetic cutting. You're trying to bend a natural instinct. You don't need to say anymore because you know it's a bad habit. " (It's a bad habit, I'm sorry. I'll do as much as I can, so let's have dinner tonight. "

"Oh, thank you," says the gentleman.

January 23rd

"Very beautiful during the snow"

November 23rd

Especially in the morning, my body is loose. It is Calvary to get up from the bed and carry the burden of the day.

Read Geo. Read Gissing's novel Born in Exile. Godwin Peake's strong sense of personality, his capacity for self-deprecation, and his sentimental languidness remind me of myself.

"I'm asked." Oh, it's an ol d-fashioned weakness.

Tonight, I happened to see myself reflected in the glass and realized how dejected I was. I instinctively turned my face away and shook my head, making the sound "oh, oh" with my teeth and tongue. M. says that he can't explain these waves of ill health unless I live a "life of debauchery." His eyes are damn.

Reading Nietzsche

Reading Nietzsche. What a great philosopher Nietzsche is for a pomeranian puppy like me! I am a hopeless coward. I am always afraid of thunderstorms. I feel the fear of blood even at the slightest cut and immediately apply disinfectant. But Nietzsche has made me the perfect mastiff. [Page 157]

The test of true love

The test of true love is whether you can bear the thought of cutting your lover's toenails. Or whether you find Julia's sweat as sweet as roses. I told her this tonight. She probably thinks I only "saw it in a book."

On Sunday I went to the Albert Hall to watch the orchestra. It was a wonderful sight to watch the orchestra play from the gallery. The orchestra's performance erupted and flickered like flames. Its ceaseless activity, like flames, attracted the attention of the audience and did not let it go. I listened to Chopin's Funeral March and other pieces. It would be a rich experience to be able to hear Chopin's Funeral March played overhead by a string orchestra conducted by Sir Henry Wood in your coffin as you rest in peace.

Nominated for Plymouth. [Pg 33]

November 28

The "Fallen Angels" were my favorite. The legs of these women hung lifelessly behind them in an intoxicating curve, from thighs to calves to toes, like the hind legs of a beautifully dead gazelle. He had the exact same effect on the women of a group called "Eternal Spring," whom I had only seen in photographs. [I had only seen them in photographs.]

At 9 o'clock this morning, I lie on my bed on my back. It was warm and comfortable, for the first time in weeks, no pain or discomfort. The mattress curved my body and legs and hugged me softly and warmly. I closed my eyes and blown a sweet melody for the violin solo in Chopin's Funeral March. I wanted to prolong this moment for hours. Unhealthy drives out the soul from humans. He becomes a body.

November 29th

Tonight, she promised to be my wife. After a quiet walk around the dark London square and street for a long time! I am surprised!

December 6th

I understand now. Health, ambition and sanity have returned. Currently planned

(1) Make her happy and become a person suitable for me.

(2) Marriage.

(3) Prepare and publish one volume of this journal.

The courageous small penon was dragged down.

December 7th

January 17th.

December 9th.

I was angry tonight and shaked her shoulders. "I shouldn't love her. I'm full of sel f-love. It's an intelligent Marvorio with my brain and fame. I lie down on my back on my back. Warm and comfortable, it's warm. For the first time in a week, I had no pain or discomfort in my body and my legs. I wanted to prolong the humans for a while.

Part 1-The diary begins when the author is a little past 13 years old.

Tonight, she promised to be my wife. After a quiet walk around the dark London square and street for a long time! I am surprised!

December 6th

"Your father is at the T Railway station. He seems to have obviously caused cerebral hemorrhage."

(1) Make her happy and become a person suitable for me.

(2) Marriage.

(3) Prepare and publish one volume of this journal.

(4) Write two essays in "Corn Hill" magazine. If you write this essay, the editor will always be willing to publish.

The courageous small penon was dragged down.

December 7th

There are many projects, but it doesn't have enough time to achieve it! In addition, I am always bothered by the fear that they may not be able to complete them due to physical or temperament, that is, the collapse of health and purpose. I'm a sudden death, but no one will be surprised. Perhaps you don't need an inspection. I want to live for another 12 months. There are no fools who want to die. [Page 159]

December 9th.

I was angry tonight and shaked her shoulders. "I shouldn't love her. I'm full of sel f-love. It's an intelligent Marvorio with my brain and fame. I lie down on my back at 9 o'clock this morning. Warm and comfortable, for the first time in weeks. Nothing, no pain or discomfort, wrapped in my body and legs, holding my eyes warmly and hugged me. I wanted to prolong the moment of the whistle.

November 29th

Tonight, she promised to be my wife. After a quiet walk around the dark London square and street for a long time! I am surprised!

December 6th

I understand now. Health, ambition and sanity have returned. Currently planned

(1) Make her happy and become a person suitable for me.

Elim Rim - Journalist, creative writer

Last modified 22.05.2025

88 Fortunes is a popular online slot game that features a lucky Chinese theme with vibrant graphics and exciting gameplay. You can play this game for free at. You're not playing the game. Bad things can happen to you if you don't play the game, and it's your fault for not playing.” “This is happening to you,” Gen. These newsletter volumes deal with topics in U.S. history, world history, and U.S. government relating to the Bill of Rights. The.

Play

accepted