Eves Diary

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Eve's Diary

Project Gutenberg's Eve's Diary, Complete, by Mark Twain (Samuel
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Title: Eve's Diary, Complete
Author: Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens)
Release Date: June 14, 2004 [EBook #8525] [Date last updated:
November 21, 2005]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EVE'S
DIARY, COMPLETE ***

Produced by David Widger and Cindy Rosenthal

EVE'S DIARY
By Mark Twain
Illustrated by Lester Ralph

Translated from the Original

SATURDAY.--I am almost a whole day old, now. I arrived yesterday.
That is as it seems to me. And it must be so, for if there was a
day-before-yesterday I was not there when it happened, or I should
remember it. It could be, of course, that it did happen, and that I was
not noticing. Very well; I will be very watchful now, and if any
day-before-yesterdays happen I will make a note of it. It will be best to
start right and not let the record get confused, for some instinct tells me
that these details are going to be important to the historian some day.
For I feel like an experiment, I feel exactly like an experiment; it would
be impossible for a person to feel more like an experiment than I do,
and so I am coming to feel convinced that that is what I AM--an
experiment; just an experiment, and nothing more.
Then if I am an experiment, am I the whole of it? No, I think not; I
think the rest of it is part of it. I am the main part of it, but I think the
rest of it has its share in the matter. Is my position assured, or do I have
to watch it and take care of it? The latter, perhaps. Some instinct tells
me that eternal vigilance is the price of supremacy. [That is a good
phrase, I think, for one so young.]
Everything looks better today than it did yesterday. In the rush of
finishing up yesterday, the mountains were left in a ragged condition,
and some of the plains were so cluttered with rubbish and remnants that
the aspects were quite distressing. Noble and beautiful works of art
should not be subjected to haste; and this majestic new world is indeed
a most noble and beautiful work. And certainly marvelously near to

being perfect, notwithstanding the shortness of the time. There are too
many stars in some places and not enough in others, but that can be
remedied presently, no doubt. The moon got loose last night, and slid
down and fell out of the scheme--a very great loss; it breaks my heart to
think of it. There isn't another thing among the ornaments and
decorations that is comparable to it for beauty and finish. It should have
been fastened better. If we can only get it back again--
But of course there is no telling where it went to. And besides, whoever
gets it will hide it; I know it because I would do it myself. I believe I
can be honest in all other matters, but I already begin to realize that the
core and center of my nature is love of the beautiful, a passion for the
beautiful, and that it would not be safe to trust me with a moon that
belonged to another person and that person didn't know I had it. I could
give up a moon that I found in the daytime, because I should be afraid
some one was looking; but if I found it in the dark, I am sure I should
find some kind of an excuse for not saying anything about it. For I do
love moons, they are so pretty and so romantic. I wish we had five or
six; I would never go to bed; I should never get tired lying on the
moss-bank and looking up at them.
Stars are good, too. I wish I could get some to put in my hair. But I
suppose I never can. You would be surprised to find how far off they
are, for they do not look it. When they first showed, last night, I tried to
knock some down with a pole, but it didn't reach, which astonished me;
then I tried clods till I was all tired out, but I never got one. It was
because I am left-handed and cannot throw good. Even when I aimed at
the