In the morning I did almost nothing. I stumbled up against the historic course of art. I took a walk. After dinner I left. I arrived at 10. _March 4, Moscow._ Got up late. Handled my papers, wrote letters to Posha, Nakashidze. Went to the public library, took books. In the evening Dunaev and Boulanger were here. It is now late. I am going to bed. S. is at a concert. _March 5. Moscow. If I live._ Heavens, how many days I have skipped: _To-day, March 9. Moscow._ Out of the four days, I wrote two days on art and to-day pretty much. I wanted to write _Hadji Murad_ very much and thought out something pretty well--touching. A letter from Posha. Wrote to Chertkov and Koni about the terrible thing that happened to Miss Vietrov.[192] I am not going to write out what I have noted. I am still in the same peaceful, because loving, mood. As soon as I feel like being hurt or wearied I remember God and that my work is only one, to love, not to think of that which will be--and I feel better right away. Tania is going to Yasnaya. _To-day, March 15, Moscow._ Lived not badly. I see the end of the essay on art. Still the same peace. I thank God. I have just now written letters. It is evening. I am going into the tedious drawing-room. _To-day, April 4, Moscow._ Almost a month I have not written (20 days), and I have lived the time badly, because I worked little. Wrote all the time on art, became confused these last days. And now for two days I haven’t written. I have not lost my peace, but my soul is troubled, still I am master of it. Oh, Lord! If only I could remember my mission, that through oneself must be manifested (shine) divinity. But the difficulty is, that if you remember that alone you will not live; and you must live, live energetically, and yet remember. Help me, Father. I have prayed much lately that my life be better. But as it is, the consciousness of the lawlessness of my life is shameful and depressing. Yesterday I thought very well about Hadji Murad--that in it the principal thing was to express a deception of trust. How good it would have been, were it not for this deception. Also I am thinking more and more often of _The Appeal_. I am afraid that the theme of art has occupied me lately for personal, selfish and bad reasons. _Je m’entends._ During this time I made few notes and if I had been thinking about anything I have forgotten it. 1) The world which we know and represent for ourselves, is nothing else than laws of co-relation between our senses (_sens_), and therefore, a miracle is a violation of these laws of co-relation, it therefore destroys our conception of the world. In the crudest form, it is thus: I know that water (not frozen) is always liquid. And its specific gravity is less than that of my body. My eyes, hearing, touch, demonstrate to me liquid water; and suddenly a man walks on this water. If he walked on the water, then it proves nothing, but only destroys my conception of water.