Dec. 28 – 1923
     I woke up in the middle of the night.  The wind was blowing about my head as tho I were outdoors sleeping.
     At dawn I was up.  It was strange to come away from the lamp lit lavatories where men looked pallid under artificial light, to come away and out into the warm daylight.  Over in the east were scattered bluish clouds that had an elemental look about them as thunderclouds to the east after the first spring thunderstorm has passed, or as the world might have looked after the Flood.
     On way to work.  A great swooping wind out of the southwest.  The tree tops roar against the cold gray sky; the clouds spit down a few wild flakes of snow now and then.  Trees look blackly at the ground and the peaks and corners of the bleak houses are razor-sharp.  I walk along exultantly with my chest out.  All things are possible now.  I felt like throwing a gauntlet into the face of the whole world; let me, like a winter wind sweep all of the debris of the centuries away, I – alone – unaided!
     As I sat in front of my work at the factory trying to collect my thoughts for