I try to comfort myself by thinking you are happy, because you have Hope, and I have nobody, except John McCutcheon and Bass and Jimmie Hare, and they are as blue as I am, and no one can get any money.

I cabled today to Wheeler for some via the State Department.

I went to the Servian camp for the little orphans whose fathers have been killed, and they all knelt and kissed my hands.
It was awful.

I thought of Hope, and hugged a few and carried them around in my arms and felt much better.

Today for the first time, I quit work and went to see an American film at the cinema to cheer me.
But when I saw the streetcars, and "ready to wear" clothes, and the policemen I got suicidal.