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of illness.

     M me lately these ill winds are [construed?] second [assortment?] that so many people insist on seeing me as one absorbed only in sex. I grow furious at what I feel, for the time, is the stupidity of people.

     I read Brooks book and was filled with admiration. Then I grew angry.. I become brothers (in imagination) to Twain - see just how impossible it was for Brooks to really see the town.

     That made me angry and I wrote an angry letter to Brooks. I accused him of escaping out of Puritanism by the trick of the physilogist of having no sympathy for any living effort to lift the veil from unreality. What I suppose I