If I had still the faith of a child who stuttered, entrusted with the anguish of my soul to Almighty God, good God, but I have no one in heaven or on earth who can sympathize with me, no more than your image transfigured.

Poor me! She turns away from me, she hides this demon crying when my soul is presented.

And yet, no human was what I felt. Why are not beings of light, no desire and pure as the ether? Why we are but dust, dust-bound, living dust and returning to dust when we let go of this great need that is existence? It is the great fault of my life I have here, the lack of which has been a victim, you, me and a third, which is pure and good, and yet has been the cause of everything.
 
Who has always been surrounded by love and has never known anything but love, often learns more easily than anyone, self-reliance, and yet, I carried in his heart an inexhaustible reservoir of love. He lavished the animals, petting dogs, cats and kissing geese drowning out of love. One of my passions was playing in the barn. I felt at my ease in the litter resilient and flexible, between the hulls of my favorite horses, never hurt me, or I was up to the manger where he remained for hours staring at the brown eyes of my dear friends.

But the dog niche was where I was better. There I was often asleep around noon, and was not an easy thing to get me out of the niche, as Nero, who otherwise was a dog so good and so loving, showed his teeth to anyone who crossed the circle allowed chain go, even if it were his master.