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

When you left on Saturday, I felt a horrible void, I saw you everywhere, on the beach, in your room, in the garden: impossible for me to get used to the idea that you had left.

It is in fact agreed that I am the plague, the cholera of the benevolent and generous men who are interested in art and that, when I show myself with my plasters, even the Emperor of the Sahara would flee.

Don't fear anything for your letters, they are burnt one by one and I hope you do the same with mine.

I have fallen into an abyss. I live in a world so curious, so strange. Of the dream that was my life, this is my nightmare.

Sir Rodin convinced my parents to have me committed; they are all in Paris to arrange it.

My countrymen have commissioned a bust of the Republic. It will be placed on the fountain of my native town.