But I have said, "I will be an artist!"

Day and night I have dreamed it; day and night I have fought for it. I have
plotted and planned--I have plotted to save a minute. I have done menial
work that I might have my brain free--all the languages that I know I have
worked at at such times. I have calculated the cost of foods--I have lived
on a third of the pittance I earned, that I might save two-thirds of my
time. I once washed dishes in a filthy restaurant because that took only
two or three hours a day.

I have said, "I will be an artist! I will fix my eyes upon the goal; I
will watch and wait, and fight the fight day by day. And when at last I am
strong, and when my message is ripe, I will earn myself a free chance, and
then I will write a book. All the yearning, all the agony of this my life
I will put into it; every hour of trial, every burst of rage. I will make
it the hope of my life, I will write it with my blood--give every ounce of
strength that I have and every dollar that I own; and I will win--I will
win!

"So I will be free, and the horror will be over."

I have done that--I am doing that now. I mean to finish it if it kills
me.--

But I was sitting on the edge of the bed to-night, and the tears came into
my eyes and I whispered: "But oh, you must not ask me to do anymore! I can
not do any more! It will leave me broken!"

Only so much weight can a man carry. The next pound breaks his back.