Oh, How Hard It Must

Simplicity Is The Final Achievement.

I Am Gay On The Outside, Especially Among My Own Folk (i Count Poles My Own); But Inside Something Gnaws At Me; Some Presentiment, Anxiety, Dreams - Or Sleeplessness - Melancholy, Indifference - Desire For Life, And The Next Instant, Desire For Death; Some Kind Of Sweet Peace, Some Kind Of Numbness, Absent-mindedness.

Here, Waltzes Are Called Works! And Strauss And Lanner, Who Play Them For Dancing, Are Called Kapellmeistern. This Does Not Mean That Everyone Thinks Like That; Indeed, Nearly Everyone Laughs About It; But Only Waltzes Get Printed.

The Three Most Celebrated Doctors On The Island Have Been To See Me. One Sniffed At What I Spat, The Second Tapped Where I Spat From, And The Third Sounded Me And Listened As I Spat. The First Said I Was Dead, The Second That I Was Dying And The Third That I'm Going To Die.

I Don't Know How It Is, But The Germans Are Amazed At Me And I Am Amazed At Them For Finding Anything To Be Amazed About.