My dear Jacques, I'm probably picking up my quill for the last time today - what a nonsensical phrase! even among similar phrases! "picking up the quill" would have been the most atrocious way of correspondence! - to let you know about my existence, which is only distinguished by the fact that nothing is happening at all. Life goes on, it feels like being wrapped in a duvet: this country is for the "neutral" people, and the last three long months have gone and left nothing behind. See more
Had I been younger, I'd have thought of it as "revenues and expenses" and kept silent. Alas! Things are very different now. Soon there will be an installation of suitcases in my home, and such a sad one.
How is your wife's health?
I don't understand why can't fate give you even a little break? No one wants it more than I do.
Your old loyal friend,
Here the weather is hopelessly bad… I have never in my life seen so much rain. Your only relief is that you don’t see the mountains, although it is sad to console oneself with the thought that others are in even worse circumstances… It seems that now I can truly say, if we had remained in Paris, it could have hardly been worse for me! See more
Here in the mornings I am split between exhaustion and irritation over how I will come up with something to fill up my day… I made up my mind to compose a few concerts for the fortepiano with the participation of different orchestral groups, similar to my sonatas; though done poorly… Where are they, those remarkable days of the year 1915?
My dear Jacques, if you have any insight into what on Earth’s going on in Russia, do be so kind as to fill me in. These people have the most curious understandings of responsibility! You know this common way of speaking of “mysterious Russia”... If mysterious means insane, then I am in full agreement. See more
Speaking honestly, how ridiculously massive that country is! (It seems like it would, at the very least, need two presidents). The telephone brings ears together, but not necessarily hearts. And no one will ever be able to make the “Petrograders” be of the same opinion as the “Muscovites”.
Your old, loyal,
There are mornings when it seems to be as difficult to do my toilet as to perform one of the twelve feats of Hercules! And I'm still waiting for something - revolution or earthquake - something that would spare me from this difficult routine.
The human mechanism is something very mysterious, and I never manage to discipline my will, I forget the simplest things and I curse myself a hundred times a day. And yet I finished the sonata for violin and piano, the ending of which defended against me, like a hundred of boches. See more
I still do not understand what it is... Thanks to the phenomenon of a split personality - maybe quite natural? - her music is full of life, almost joyful. Does not it tell us how little our participation in adventures is, where our brain gets involved without our knowledge? "The spirit blows wherever it wants..."
I have been put to bed... yesterday, when I left to fetch some coal, the cold got to my lower back and now I’m suffering like St. Sebastian.