And I know my feeling is not the feeling of forty years. They do
not feel any of these things at forty. At forty the fire has long
since burned out. When I am forty I shall look back to myself and
my feelings at nineteen--and I shall smile.
Or shall I indeed smile?
January 17.
As I have said, I want Fame. I want to write--to write such things
as compel the admiring acclamations of the world at large; such
things as are written but once in years, things subtly but distinctly
different from the books written every day.