I was a town child, it is true, but that did not prevent me enjoying open-air life, with plants and animals.

But I did not find any positive inspiration in my studies until I approached my nineteenth year.

I admired in others the strength that I lacked myself.

But my doubt would not be overcome. Kierkegaard had declared that it was only to the consciousness of sin that Christianity was not horror or madness. For me it was sometimes both.

Any feeling that I was enriching my mind from those surrounding me was unfortunately rare with me.

Six hours a day I lived under school discipline in active intercourse with people none of whom were known to those at home, and the other hours of the twenty-four I spent at home, or with relatives of the people at home, none of whom were known to anybody at school.

Just about this time, when in imagination I was so great a warrior, I had good use in real life for more strength, as I was no longer taken to school by the nurse, but instead had myself to protect my brother, two years my junior.