I must get my hand in,
gain what there is to be gained here, that the work I am going to do for
Karl may have the benefit of it all. But I have made innumerable
sketches, and it is growing all the time. There need be no fear of my
losing it. I could no more lose it than I could lose my own soul. It
grows as I grow. Sometimes I think I should wait ten years--but I shall
not.
"Yes, the critics like the picture of which you speak. Of course I am
painting all the time--other things--various things. But it all seems
like practice work to me--a mere getting ready."
And then, after a long time, this:--"This is my birthday;--a day linked
more closely than I could ever tell with Karl, our life and work and
love. If I had looked forward from one happy birthday I had and seen what
was ahead--how it would be with me now--I never could have gone on. We go
on by not knowing what is waiting for us, and day by day we bear what we
would have said, looking ahead, we never could endure--and that is human
life.
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