Memoirs of Anne C.L. Botta,: written by her friends. With selections from her correspondence and from her writings in prose and poetry.

anne C. X.:3otta
him; he called to finish the conversation. You know
he is an artist, and paints extremely well. I showed
him my two busts, and he was delighted at the
power he said they evinced. He praised them more
than (with my modesty, which you know is so great)
I dare to repeat; and exhorted me by all means to
give up every other pursuit and devote myself to this
art. He was sure that I could distinguish myself and
do honor to the sex even now. I do not care so
much for these last results; but if I could give expression to the love and idea of beauty that is in my
soul, I should be happy.
... I have been reading in the "Journal of Speculative Philosophy" an article by Schopenhauer on Immortality. Did you read it? He says, "That which
cries out,'I, I myself wish to exist!' is not yourself
alone, but all that has the least vestige of consciousness. Hence this desire of ours is just that which is
not individual, but common to all without exception;
it does not originate in individuality, but in the very
nature of existence itself. It is essential to anybody
who lives; nay, it is that through which all conscious
individuality exists. It seems to belong only to the
individual, because it can only become conscious in
the individual. What cries so loud in us for existence, does so only through the mediation of the individual; immediately and essentially it is the will to
exist, or to live, and this will is one and the same in
all of us."
I cannot follow the argument. Our own essence
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