Chapter 17 1903

Letter after letter to write, I'm so bored, so bored, I can't work... Not a lasting friendship, to hell with the best friendships... But I didn't.In the end, I always write letters, for peace of mind, for my own peace of mind; because, as long as I don't write letters, I will inevitably blame myself.The worst thing is that if you write a letter immediately, the other party will reply, and as long as the other party does not reply, I will look forward to their letter. We read "Youth" aloud.When I read it for the first time, I didn't think this book was very good, but it was more complicated than gorgeous, too messy but not rich enough, in short, more bizarre but not interesting.Strange today, I am admiring every page.I admire Dostoevsky more than I thought others could.

But it should be clarified whether what people want is fraternity or literature. George reminded me of a past event: Two years ago, I seemed to be unintentional, but made a surprising statement, and said to Miss S: "I can't think of it. If I didn't love literature so much, I would have already entered the French Academy!" Miss S heard I was surprised and angry. Be content, immoral: On the ruins of your thoughts he believes no more but thorns.This is what you have in common with many people.You are unique only by remembering the way you were. Why don't you understand that to replace an ethics, aesthetics is essential.

On the train, the next stop is Rouen; morning mist fills the banks of the Seine.Morning refreshment.I repeat the savory words again: the refreshment of the morning.The blue and powdery sea of ​​fog flooded the flat fields, only the tops of wheat stacks were exposed; the air was indescribably pure; the blue sky soaked the earth.After a sleepless night, my eyes are very tired. At this time, I wash on the misty river and drink on the milky white slope of the hill.All the flora of nature hasten to bathe in the morning light before the heat of the day sets in.Here the morning dew turns to sap; the withered grass turns green again.Even if I lost everything I had and valued here on earth, I would still be happy this morning.I become a plant in the grass, and wake up with all things.

Even when you parted from her, you could not conceal your pleasure from her.And she failed to hide her tears from you, why are you a little annoyed? In the carriage, the cheerful abbe spoke without thinking, and often began with: "I beg you to believe that..." Sometimes he also said: "To tell you the truth..." But in this case, he Just add: "Personally..." The other traveling companions are definitely rightists, and their eyes seem to say to you: We are not the ones who will be arrested suddenly. Miserable sky!A scene immersed in terror!There are cracks in the grass on the low hills, and the aftermath of the torrent is still flowing in the deep ditch created by a heavy rain.The scenery is green or coal-colored, and water is pouring down on it.

Yesterday, what a thrill to set off...I almost cried like a child.As if I was traveling for the first time, I kept asking myself: Is this in line with my destiny? ...Is it my turn again? …It was not such a state of mind before; back then, when my strong desires gave me power over everything, I embraced everything within my grasp.Today, I feel like a child who "imitates an adult". Weimar It's kind of surprising to think about it at eighty years old, remember that kind of ending to the trip to Weimar? In fact, I didn't make it up. What happened that night is already incredible to me.

At first, they didn't speak a word to each other, but when they chatted, they became extremely enthusiastic.It started with my brother joining our conversation.I heard he was fourteen, his brother sixteen: they were going farther than Weimar, I don't remember where they came from, they went to school there.Both were well dressed, very German, but each had its own peculiarities. At first, they didn't speak a word to each other.They even looked a little haughty, especially the little one, who was also the cutest one.I kept looking at him, worried that I would offend him; but I couldn't lower my eyes if I wanted to.Probably for this reason, he pulled up his big black lapel and hung it on the luggage net rack, making it look like a tent, with most of his head thrown down, pretending to be asleep.After a long time, I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I saw him standing looking out the car window.I got up too, and stood behind him; in a moment, we were going to hold each other's hands with our fingertips.I don't have the guts, it was he who took the initiative to invite me.I saw and felt that he was having fun in this behavior.Then, he half-lyed on my bedding.Make it easy for me to get close, and then make it easier.A train travels through a tunnel.Afterwards, the carriage was full of unfamiliar faces and well-educated people talking.Then, the conversation in the carriage turned superficial. Moller, K. Ebinger, and others are sure that the Hs are exaggerated and easy to fabricate.None of them would affirm that this had not happened.However, when I told this story, I didn't quite believe it myself.After that it was nothing.This thing really intoxicated me.

I'm always grateful that circumstances require me to do things that I would never do on my own initiative. German city name.The day after the lecture, Gide visited Bad Kissingen. O full of longing and joy, the sky is blue this morning, Apollo dwells in you, and I feel your blue sky is nearer to me than your dark clouds of yesterday.Surrounded by the blue sky, I am full of enthusiasm; this blue color has been seeping into my heart. It seems that Oberhof is a wonderful place.I really want to bathe in the waterfall here. Kant's pigeon.And even better: Kite, thought it would go higher without the string... These kids are flying kites... Am I making fun of them?Or are they making fun of me?They're sitting under this tree, right where I'm writing.Now they are gone.It would be me, but I dare not sit beside them! ...they are back again.I pretended to be concentrating on writing, but actually I was thinking about them...

Dornburg I picture this garden in spring... I imagine it especially in the fall. There are three castles here in Dornburg, we only visited two, and only liked one of them, the castle where Goethe lived.Exhibited is a table on which he wrote Chromatology, Iphigenia and fragments of Faust.We stop to watch all these things, and look for some kind of secret formed by the work in the objects related to the work.The view from this window was beautiful, as it is today.I will remember the white and rose parquet floors in the cloakroom, above the stairs; to the right, a narrow white piano...   However, the garden of the other castle is the most beautiful. This castle in the middle... Ah!Stay here till night! - stay here until autumn!

Speaking of Griffin, Mudd said: "I have the distinct feeling that what I appreciate in him is poets—yes, poets, as they say sugar. But I'm particularly fond of honey. Yes, to be honest. , he lacks personal taste... Let's put it this way: he's not great enough, can't and doesn't have enough personality to be called..." A few boring hours at the Botanical Garden in Frankfurt.I jotted down the names of these beautiful climbers: Rhodochiton volubile, deep purple flower cap. Mina lobata, golden yellow and red.In the greenhouse there is: Lapageria superb rosea, which covers the roof of the greenhouse and blooms with flowers (August).There is also a class of white varieties.Much more beautiful than passionflower.

One of them starts like this: "And its nails dug into the flesh." I could see the narrowness of his mind from his forehead. This memory can only be compared with the memory left by the Spanish boy in the mountains: the boy worked in the St. James Hotel in Biarritz, and what he stirred up in my heart was full of joyful feelings.I fell in love with him the night I first arrived, a relationship so delicate that it was almost impossible to believe that there was no carnal desire.He left the hotel the next day and wanted to go back to his home in the countryside. I remember the name of the village, which is near Pau. Two days later, when I had left Biarritz and was about to leave Bayonne again, I saw him on the platform of the railway station in the morning, accompanied by an old woman who was his relative.He recognized me as soon as he saw me, and threw his arms around my neck without hesitation.brat!For you, I can give up all my travels!However, he happened to catch the same train as me!His aunt left him in my care.We got into the same carriage. At Pau, I parted with him (I was going to Cauterets), but for three days nothing else was on my mind. I can still hear his voice (very immature), but today I've confused it with the wonderful voice of the little blue-eyed boy in Weimar.The boy may have been a little less handsome, but he was just as sensitive, just as gentle. Blonde hair; pure blue eyes, seems to be full of meaning of "don't forget me". Mrs. FN is waiting for me to have tea at five o'clock, but I am lingering with a child on my side, and he has to wait for a child.We climbed a rick, and I lifted them up to the top, and my clothes were soon covered with grass clippings. Mrs. FN got impatient, so she came out by car to look for me.So, I took my child to find her again.The child took my hand and walked with me on the street. He kept talking, his voice was accurate and clear, but I couldn't understand a few words.When I went back to Earl K's mansion to pack the boxes (preparing to leave at night), the little guy sat on the steps of the opposite house with two friends, and he waited there; I waved to him from the window from time to time, and he smiled at me laugh.He refused to believe that I was leaving, and when I mentioned that I was leaving, he said, "It's not true!" At last Mrs. FN's coach came to pick me up, and I went downstairs. Mrs. FN is sitting in the car.I almost let some kids in the car.The tall sash-trimmed footman who helped me into my overcoat fascinated the children; I felt they took me for a prince.When I finally turned to wave them goodbye, I saw my little friend crying. On Sunday, back to Paris. There was a storm last night.It was planned that this Friday I would cross the sea from Le Havre to Honfleur to meet Johann Schellenberg and have lunch with him.On Thursday evening I telegraphed him and told him to reschedule the appointment. If only we had been in Étretat last night!I thought about it yesterday, but didn't dare to suggest it to Marcel and Georges.Today, Yana is going.I will go with her.Fishing boats hauled out onto the streets and wiped out everything on the beach.The tide is still high, and it will not go back now.On the Chaudron side, many children and women were picking up the remains of wooden houses, platforms and gangplanks. The tallest linden tree in the garden had its thickest branch snapped off; the garden was in disarray.The sea breeze blows the leaves yellow, and the heavy rain smashes all the flowers. Gide set off for Uzès to spend a week at the spring estate of Charles Gide's family. never mind!The night was over, it was dawn; the sky was cloudless; headed into the sunny south.The mountains must have been the Alps, jagged peaks still blocking the sun.I still remember that when I was a child, my parents took the night train, took the same route, and at the same time of day, my mother said: "André! Look, the Alps (les Alpines)!"—and then my parents In an argument, my father decided that it should be called "Les Alpilles". Last night, crammed into the room by a fat curate, I was able to sleep only intermittently.It was full of passengers, and I originally planned to take the third-class carriage, but in the second-class carriage, I have already suffered quite a lot.Thinking of being at Springs, I'd take a nap after lunch—hot and sleepy from the wine, my head groggy... a nap! Dark clouds gradually covered the entire sky. With only a business card, you can answer Moras: "I am so sorry, dear Moras, for causing you so much pain." For or against Barres. "A bush is not all flowers, but also stems and leaves."  … —When a rose "grows luxuriantly", it must be pruned.This always hinders flowering. It is thought that the more branches and stems, the more flowers will bloom, which is completely wrong.Flowers and branches, the development of one always sacrifices the other.