1896 January 23. Moscow. Just a month that I made no entries. During this time I wrote a letter about patriotism and a letter to Crosby and here now for two weeks I have been writing the drama. I wrote three acts abominably. I thought to make an outline so as to form a charpente. I have little hope of success. Chertkov and Kenworthy went away the 7th. Sonya went to Tver to Andrusha. To-day Nagornov died. I am again a little indisposed. I jotted down during this time: 1) A true work of art—a contagious one—is produced only when the artist seeks, strives. In poetry this passion for representing that which is, comes from the fact that the artist hopes that having seen clearly and having fixed that which is, he will understand the mean...