From Edvard Munch’s notebooks

  She was a swan –    It glided with its long white slender neck slowly across the water –    It looked about with kind eyes Its graceful lines were reflected in the water – together with the clouds in the sky    I lived down there poked about amidst blue-black vermin – greenish-brown slime – and all sorts of hideous creatures –   I floundered around in the mire remembering a time when I did not have all that mire in my bronchia when I lived up there –    Then I was frightened by my own shadow and I had to return to the bright colours – I forced my way up – It was blindingly white
…
– there was the swan    I reached out to it with my hands it approached me slowly I thought I could touch it press its white breast to mine – rest my head in its down    The water surrounding me was muddy and in it I glimpsed my countenance which was terribly pale – – I saw that it was frightened – I heard a scream – and I knew that it was I who had screamed –    The swan was far off – where the unruffled water reflected its graceful lines and the sky’s bright clouds –
…
  It would not come any closer – And I saw that I was surrounded by mire – and the swan was afraid of the mire –    The Swan was far off – where the limpid water reflected the sky’s white clouds