Women, well the same here--quit before becoming weary, and a mental reservation to endeavor to hold off more and more, but not to take it to heart if not able to. This is a natural weakness, and is good if not too much. Can I do it? That is the question. If I can tide over that terrible reaction that comes several times a week, and sometimes night after night, I think I can endure life, or hell, as I am coming to regard it. Reversing the conventional view I might say, “Life is hell, and we have nothing to look forward to which is worse, therefore if there is any future life, it must be better.” Whether this is logical or not, I don’t know, but it looks good to me, even if not altogether original. I have been reading Strindberg at the Denver Library the last few days. I have read “Countess Julia, the Dream Play, the Link and the Dance of Death.” I enjoyed them, which is a matter of course, as I always understand and enjoy deeply the work of genius, especially so-called degenerate genius. Last night some time or other I dropped hope, only to pick her up again, for she must be a woman--she tantalizes me so much. =Denver, Colo., Monday, February 10, 1913.= Yesterday as the day wore on, gloom prevailed, increasing until last night, but I clenched my fists and grit my teeth this morning, and will go on. Three months to a day to my birthday, I notice, who am always looking for auspicious dates for a new start. The principal issue is clear, I must crucify my perverted hereditary sexual appetites. Absolute continence except under favorable conditions. As these conditions are unlikely to occur, as I am not going looking for them, namely, that a woman yield from pure love or passion, and the only other alternative is marriage, I have a big fight on, but as the issue is life with honor, or death, with or without honor, I feel that I shall make this stand at last, after which the fight will be easier, if without the prospect of happiness, for, after all, I must not expect happiness; I must learn to live without it, to make my life represented by my work, and finally I may attain a degree of peace and rest, if not of happiness. Yes, crucify, the devil. =New York, Sunday, February 23, 1913.= Arrived here last Tuesday night, the 18th. Thursday on bad attack of grippe. Misery, of course, induced exceeding pessimism, but .... although physically miserable, my mental condition is hopeful. Shall endeavor to remain in New York. Depends on whether I get well quick and get work quick, as I have just $24 in cash left from the $400 I saved in Havana, with $10 from railway refund coming sometime. If health and work come out, then it is only a matter of being able to keep it up. If not pride humbled, back to ..... Apropos of this, I am not so sure but that I made a bigger fool of myself than others whom I consigned to that class.