Am I satisfied? I suppose on this night that I am. I can’t describe exactly what it is that I am satisfied with, but I suppose it has something to do with my day having gone quite well – not spectacularly, but well enough to feel pleasant about it. It might also be owed to the stirring clarity of mind that I now possess. I feel like I can stay awake and write for hours. Or read Martin and understand every word he says. But I fear, as soon as I admit of this satisfaction, as soon as I come to believe myself satisfied, that the feeling of satisfaction shall readily leave me. It is always the case. Tomorrow, I shall find myself quite dissatisfied with things again. Even those things in which I now find joy and contentment, shall tomorrow appear as insubstantial, waning, and heavy to bear. Tomorrow, everything shall appear as draped in grey. It is the vivacious spirit of to-day who is to be blamed for the lusterless world of to-morrow; all things pale before the effulgence.