October 28, 1901.
And so there you have my Portrayal. It is the record of three
months of Nothingness. Those three months are very like the three
months that preceded them, to be sure, and the three that followed
them--and like all the months that have come and gone with me, since
time was. There is never anything different; nothing ever happens.
Now I will send my Portrayal into the wise wide world. It may stop
short at the publisher; or it may fall still-born from the press;
or it may go farther, indeed, and be its own undoing.
That’s as may be.