Wednesday, 19 October 1881

There is no denying it — I cough so much that it must be doing damage inside. And along with that I am growing thin, or rather… yes, I am growing thin; the flesh, without becoming ugly, slackens — or not even that, but when one looks at one's arms, for example: when I extend my arm it takes on a stricken look instead of the insolence of before. It is even rather pretty and I do not complain yet. At present it is the interesting period — one becomes thin without gauntness, and there is a certain languor that suits one… But if this continues, in a year I shall end as a skeleton.