'_May 23d, 1836_.--I have just been reading Goethe's
Lebensregel. It is easy to say "Do not trouble yourself with
useless regrets for the past; enjoy the present, and leave the
future to God." But it is _not_ easy for characters, which
are by nature neither _calm_ nor _careless_, to act upon these
rules. I am rather of the opinion of Novalis, that "Wer sich
der hochsten Lieb ergeben Genest von ihnen Wunden nie."
'But I will endeavor to profit by the instructions of the
great philosopher who teaches, I think, what Christ did, to
use without overvaluing the world.
'Circumstances have decided that I must not go to Europe, and
shut upon me the door, as I think, forever, to the scenes I
could have loved. Let me now try to forget myself, and act
for others' sakes. What I can do with my pen, I know not. At
present, I feel no confidence or hope. The expectations so
many have been led to cherish by my conversational powers, I
am disposed to deem ill-founded. I do not think I can produce
a valuable work. I do not feel in my bosom that confidence
necessary to sustain me in such undertakings,--the confidence
of genius. But I am now but just recovered from bodily
illness, and still heart-broken by sorrow and disappointment.
I may be renewed again, and feel differently. If I do not
soon, I will make up my mind to teach. I can thus get money,
which I will use for the benefit of my dear, gentle, suffering
mother,--my brothers and sister. This will be the greatest
consolation to me, at all events.'