Tuesday, 17 December 1878

I have rarely been so morose, so lost. Paul behaves well — I find him almost too proper.
I rest only when working, and the two hours of freedom left to me I spend reading or dozing. Never, never have I been so listless, so stupefied, so discouraged, and so skeptical.
I must produce one good study and receive some compliments — that will reattach me to artistic glory and give me a reason to exist.