Marie Bashkirtseff (From Childhood to Girlhood) by Marie Bashkirtseff
page 54 of 80 (67%)
page 54 of 80 (67%)
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To-morrow I will talk with Mamma about my idea; aid me, my God.
Thursday, December 23d, 1875. I am sorrowful and discouraged. My departure is an exile to me. I want to stay in Nice, and it is impossible. We always insist upon the impossible. The simplest thing, by resisting, gains in value. Friday, December 24th, 1875. B---- has been to our house. By a few words in the conversation he awoke in me so much love for Nice, so much regret at leaving, that I became unhappy and went to my room to sing--with such earnestness, such warmth, that I am still weeping from it--that eternal air, and these delightful words: "Alas! Would it were possible I might return, Unto that vanished land whence I was torn, There, there alone to live my heart doth yearn, To live, to love, to die." How I pity those who are not like me! They do not understand how much truth there is in this familiar fragment that is sung in every drawing-room. Yes, _there alone to live my heart doth yearn_. Yes, at Nice, in my beloved villa. People may go through the world. They will find sublime landscapes, impressive mountains, frightful gulfs, wild beauties of nature, picturesque towns, great cities; but, on returning to Nice one would say that elsewhere it was beautiful, |
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