Yesterday as the day before, after staying some while in bed, I got up — but this time not to write verses, however poor they might be; I got up to...
What is atrocious is that every single time I let myself
I go out at ten o'clock, alone with Fritz — not a soul! A furious sun, a blue sea of that disagreeable violet blue, and
Today is the day my enemy departs. The weather is atrocious — no sun, a furious wind, a raging sea! I always feel ill-tempered and wretched in such...