There is always something missing that torments me.

I have been back in Paris for two weeks. Nothing new. Life is still bitter.

I have had the problem of seeing my male model go to Italy and... stay there.

I would have preferred to be successful here with a piece that cost me a huge amount of money and effort... rather than sending to Bohemia some ordinary works.

Last night, two men tried to force my shutters. I recognized them: they are two of Rodin's Italian models. He told them to kill me. I am in his way; he wants to get rid of me.

I took all my wax studies and threw them in the fire that's the way it is when something unpleasant happens to me. I take my hammer and I squash a figure.

Send me one hundred francs on our future deals, otherwise I will disappear in a cataclysm.