Friday, Dec 9, 1887 The time is flying and I seem not to accomplish much. I dont seem able to paint because I am disturbed in my mind, unsettled and not happy. I stretched a number of my studies and now have them all stretched, but I can't paint and feel utterly powerless to compose anything. I called at Fred Nortons this evening but no one seemed to be at home and I went to the club. Perry was there and Champney came in. He does not pretend to depend on painting for a living but illustrates paints and makes pastels and he seemed surprised that I even attempted to live by painting. I think few of the artists live from their profession and all this is most disheartening and discouraging.
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