9:45 A.M. W. In his room, reading paper. Had just finished breakfast. Fanning himself. Day started extremely hot.
Charged me not to forget his love for all those who wished to have it. I said, "I take that charge to be perpetual." To which—"Yes, I mean it so."
Reverts to "An Old Man's Rejoinder," to say, "I more and more feel how little mere art could have done for me—how much something else—a something not to be enclosed in words. And that is a feature of 'Leaves of Grass' even some of our friends do not understand."
Warren tells me I was right about W.'s weight: it has fallen to 175 pounds, Warren having weighed him yesterday. W. has said nothing to me about it. Warren admits he can notice a difference in the body, that now he can span W.'s thigh with two hands—yet a few months ago could not nearly accomplish it—also speaks of some falling away of stomach.