July 20.

I cannot assent to your proposal that I should accompany the
ambassador to _______.   I do not love subordination; and we all
know that he is a rough, disagreeable person to be connected with. 
You say my mother wishes me to be employed.   I could not help
laughing at that.   Am I not sufficiently employed?   And is it not
in reality the same, whether I shell peas or count lentils?   The
world runs on from one folly to another; and the man who, solely
from regard to the opinion of others, and without any wish or
necessity of his own, toils after gold, honour, or any other
phantom, is no better than a fool.

July 24.

You insist so much on my not neglecting my drawing, that it would be as well for me to say nothing as to confess how little I have lately done.

I never felt happier, I never understood nature better, even down to the veriest stem or smallest blade of grass; and yet I am unable to express myself:  my powers of execution are so weak, everything seems to swim and float before me, so that I cannot make a clear, bold outline.  But I fancy I should succeed better if I had some clay or wax to model.  I shall try, if this state of mind continues much longer, and will take to modelling, if I only knead dough.

I have commenced Charlotte’s portrait three times, and have as often disgraced myself.  This is the more annoying, as I was formerly very happy in taking likenesses.  I have since sketched her profile, and must content myself with that.

July 25.

Yes, dear Charlotte!  I will order and arrange everything.  Only give me more commissions, the more the better.  One thing, however, I must request:  use no more writing-sand with the dear notes you send me.  Today I raised your letter hastily to my lips, and it set my teeth on edge.

July 26.

I have often determined not to see her so frequently.  But who could keep such a resolution?  Every day I am exposed to the temptation, and promise faithfully that to-morrow I will really stay away:  but, when tomorrow comes, I find some irresistible reason for seeing her; and, before I can account for it, I am with her again.  Either she has said on the previous evening “You will be sure to call to-morrow,” —­ and who could stay away then? —­or she gives me some commission, and I find it essential to take her the answer in person; or the day is fine, and I walk to Walheim; and, when I am there, it is only half a league farther to her.  I am within the charmed atmosphere, and soon find myself at her side.  My grandmother used to tell us a story of a mountain of loadstone.  When any vessels came near it, they were instantly deprived of their ironwork:  the nails flew to the mountain, and the unhappy crew perished amidst the disjointed planks.

July 30.