From The Journal of Marie Bashkirtseff (who claimed to be 13, but who was probably 15 in 1873):
Sat, Nov. 29th, 1873. — I am tortured by jealousy, love, envy, deceit, wounded vanity, by every hideous feeling in the world. Above all, feel his loss. I love him! One thing tortures me especially; it is that in a few years I shall laugh at myself, that I shall have forgotten all this! (1875 - It is two years since that time, yet I do not laugh at myself, and I have not forgotten.) All these sorrows will seem to me childishness and affectation - but no, I conjure you, do not forget! When you read these lines go back to the past, think that you are again thirteen years old; that you are in Nice; that all this is taking place now! Think that the past lives now! You will understand! You will be happy! (1880 - All this on account of a man whom I had seen a dozen times in the street, - whom I did not know, and who did not know that I was in existence.)
There was quite a lot of waffling about whether the best thing in life would be to go upon the stage, or to marry the Duke of H---, object of her affections.
Tuesday, July 6, 1874 - I am in a bad humor; I fail in everything I attempt; nothing succeeds with me. I shall be punished for my pride and my stupid arrogance. This journal is the most useful and the most instructive of all the books that were or ever will be written. It is the transcript of a woman's life - her thoughts and hopes, her deceptions, meannesses,good qualities, sorrows and joys. I am not yet altogether a woman, but I shall be. One may follow me here from childhood to death. For the life of any one - one's entire life, without concealment or disguise - is always a grand and interesting spectacle.