The Journal of a Disappointed Man

March 6. The facts are undeniable: Life is pain. No sophistry can win me over to any other view. And yet years ago I set out so hopefully and healthfully--what are birds' eggs to me now? My ambition is enormous but vague. I am too distributed in my abilities ever to achieve distinction. March 22. Had a letter from the Keeper of Zoology at the British Museum, advising me of three vacancies in his Dept., and asking me if I would like to try, etc.... So that Dr. ----'s visit to me bore some fruit.[1] Spent the morning day-dreaming.... Perhaps this is the flood tide at last! I shall work like a drayhorse to pull through if I am nominated.... I await developments in a frightfully turbulent state of mind. I have a frantic desire to control the factors which are going to affect my future so permanently. And this ferocious desire, of course, collides with a crash all day long with the fact that however much I desire there will still remain the unalterable logic of events. April 7. ... How delicious all this seemed! To be alive--thinking, seeing, enjoying, walking, eating--all quite apart from the amount of money in your purse or the prospects of a career. I revelled in the sensuous enjoyment of my animal existence. June 2. Up to now my life has been one of great internal strife and struggle--the struggle with a great ambition and a weak will--unequal to the task of coping with it. I have planned on too big a scale, perhaps. I have put too great a strain on my talents, I have whipped a flagging will, I have been for ever cogitating, worrying, devising means of escape. Meanwhile, the moments have gone by unheeded and unenjoyed.