Saturday, 8 March 1879

I tried to model in clay but have never seen how it is done and know nothing about it.
The planters and vases are filled with violets. I shall have them for a long while — they are in earth. The blue satin, these violets, and the light coming from above, the harp... not a sound, no one... I do not know why I have such a fear of the country; I do not fear it exactly, but I do not seek it either — just as..., well — all of this is ravishing for resting, but I am not tired. I am bored.