God, I am afraid he won't give me his answer today. If only somebody would help me - it is all so terribly depressing.

Perhaps he wanted to be alone with Dr. G., who was here, but he should have let me know. At Hoffmann's I felt I was sitting on hot coals, expecting him to arrive every moment.

I want to be a pretty corpse.

When he says he loves me, it only means he loves me at that particular instant. Like his promises, which he never keeps. Why does he torment me like this, when he could finish it off at once?

I sat with him for three hours and we did not exchange a single word. At the end he handed me, as he had done before, an envelope with money in it. It would have been much nicer if he had enclosed a greeting or a loving word. I would have been so pleased if he had.

I am racking my brains to find out why he left without saying goodby to me.

I have now reached the happy age of 23. No, happy is not quite the right word. At this particular moment I am certainly not happy.