Diary of Marie Bashkirtseff
CZENUKFR

Thursday, 25 March 1875

My whole day is turned upside down — I sleep until noon. At five o'clock I go out on horseback, but I have been given a wretched beast which I dismount almost immediately. In a quarter of an hour I was dressed and in the carriage. I nearly wept when I saw Hélène Howard, proud and happy on her good horse.
And I weep as I write. A garden party is being organized for the benefit of the free school of fine arts — everyone is invited, everyone except us alone, wretched outcasts and pariahs that we are. But are we ever anywhere? Only where one pays, where anyone can go.
Yes, there. My incessant pain, incredible in its constancy, increases at every moment. Which makes me think that things cannot go on like this, and that there will be an explosion, or some great misfortune, or some small change for the better. But if I weep any more, my nose will be red, my eyes clouded, my complexion ruined!
Most Holy Virgin, Mother of our Savior, have pity on me at least — You!