As I read Schopenhauer to-day I realized suddenly that there are more than one variety of Dolls’ Houses, and it is indeed one that those who go on living in their dreams away from life live in, hoping some day to have happiness or pleasure from the realization of their dreams. No, too long have I postponed facing the situation. No longer must I dream. I must act. I cannot fail; worldly honor is not success. If I be true to myself I succeed, the world notwithstanding. I have a few more studies to make,--rather I mean I am just beginning--before I have a definite philosophy, subject, of course, always to change as new experience or observation serves to confirm or reject. Schopenhauer, Ibsen, Tolstoy, Nietzsche and others must still give me their message in full before I can glean from them sufficient to test my own observations, but in the final analysis my own individuality, by own judgment must be supreme, I yield to none. Schopenhauer is right when he says we should not fill up on other men’s learning before we have experience ourselves .... has been one of my great mistakes and the resulting confusion has paralyzed me, but now I read but to learn, not to adopt without searching criticism, and meanwhile I may begin working. So long as I keep unsullied by any more very bad outbursts, forward I must go and if I am carried off at any time I have not failed, the ideal still being nursed with that tender passionate regret that Emerson speaks of. A new era is dawning for me. In spite of misunderstanding, seeming selfishness on my part, sacrifice of my best nature, the spark still lives. A few more months of renunciation and I have myself in hand and then, whatever the difficulties, ever onward and upward. =--, December 30, 1912, 6:30 P. M.= A hurried writing previous to departure for Chicago. The past three months, ones of disillusionment and blasted hopes. Future uncertain, but atmosphere cleared for anything that turns up. Suddenly deciding last night, Sunday, to leave for Chicago--slept on more or less irregularly, and had trunk packed early this morning (previously ready for quick departure), tickets, etc., by noon--theatre this afternoon, and everything nearly ready now. Turning point insofar as leaving future to chance instead of carefully planned out course .... for my temperament to settle down to any such dull routine as seems necessary to get on as others have. Besides, I have lost a certain grip I had before the early part of this year brought on acute nervousness, and it needs quick action to put me into touch with life. Slow and sure is not my forte, but fast and intermittent, and I have to face it whether I will or not. =Chicago, January 29, 1913.= If I wrote that the past month was the worst I had ever experienced, I would probably repeat myself, as I have had some very bad and frequent worsts, during the past year and a half, but nevertheless I never hope to feel so utterly despairing this side of eternity.