A Maggot Must Be Born I' The

... As Usual I Am Suffering Much From Doubt As To The Worth Of What I Am Doing And Fear Lest I May Not Be Able To Complete It So As To Make It A Contribution To Literature And Not A Mere Addition To The Heap Of Books.

Inclination Snatches Arguments To Make Indulgence Seem Judicious Choice.

Poetry And Art And Knowledge Are Sacred And Pure.

The Years Seem To Rush By Now, And I Think Of Death As A Fast Approaching End Of A Journey-double And Treble Reason For Loving As Well As Working While It Is Day.

That Is The Bitterest Of All,--to Wear The Yoke Of Our Own Wrong-doing.