Keeping a diary of one's conduct measured against explicit rules of behavior converts vague moral intention into a trackable record of failures and repetitions. The written entry functions as a mirror that forces honesty the mind alone evades, and the repeated recording of the same lapse is itself diagnostic of how little resolution changes behavior.
The diarist records making the same moral resolutions again and again while continuing to break them, suggesting that sincere intention and even written commitment are weak levers against ingrained habit and desire. Awareness of one's faults coexists with their persistence rather than curing them.
In his twenties Tolstoy's diaries record concrete private failings: losing money at cards, sexual encounters he regretted, laziness, and vanity, each noted alongside fresh rules meant to prevent recurrence. The same categories of lapse reappear across months and years in the same man's own hand.