[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 4 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Tuesday, July 6th, 2004|
April 18, 1955
And yet, to one bent by age death will come a release; I feel this quite strongly now that I have grown old myself and have come to regard death like an old debt, at long last to be discharged. Still; instinctively one does everything possible to delay this last fulfillment. Thus is the game which nature plays with us. We may ourselves smile that we are like that, but we cannot free ourselves of the instinct to which we all subject.
|Saturday, April 24th, 2004|
Einstein to Maric - 13 September 1900 - Milan
My dearest Dollie,
Three-quarters of our stupid time apart is now over. Soon I'll be with my little sweetheart again and can kiss her, hug her, make coffee with her, scold her, study with her, laugh with her, walk with her, chat with her..... + ad infinitum! We'll have another wonderful year together, don't you think? I've already announced that I'm staying with you for Christmas. I can't wait until I have you again, my everything, my little so-and-so, my street urchin, my little rascal! When I think of you now, for a second I don't want to anger or tease you ever again, only to be an angel all the time! What a nice illusion! But you'll still love me, won't you, even if I'm the same old rogue I've always been, full of whims and mischief, and as moody as ever!
I don't know if I've been writing to you as regularly as usual. But don't make angry faces about it--my aunt is visiting here (the famous one, from Genoa) with her little daughter, a sadly spoiled little brat. There's no room at all for me to be alone to write you. And if I do it in front of my parents, they think I'm trying to spite them. They're being being very nice to me, by the way, especially Papa; they seem to have reconciled themselves to the inevitable. I think they'll both come to like you very much once they get to know you. Now I'm happy that I told them everything. They should be happy too, because now that I've seen other people, I know that nowhere in the world would I be able to find someone better than you. But I also treasure you and want to give you the love you deserve. Even if my workd seems pointless and unnecessary if not for the thought that you are happy with what I am and what I do...
|Thursday, April 22nd, 2004|
Einstein in to [his wife] Maric - October 10, 1899 - Milan
I'm taking my sister to Aarau on Sunday and will arrive at my dear ex-landlady's house in Zurich the next day. She simply hasn't answered the postcard in which I dared to ask if it was within her "infinity capacity for foresight" to find me lodgings somewhere else. In other words, I, the poor little parcel, must wait for delivery until someone finds me an address. When I think about how you must now be buried in work, my anger about your not writing me melts away like wax. You poor thing, you've really had it a lot harder than I had it in the last year, being so alone and all. But wait--I can already see you smiling at my attempts of consolation, and thinking: such things are of little concern to Dollie; she knows what she wants and has demonstrated this frequently.
|Wednesday, April 21st, 2004|
Einstein to [his wife] Maric - March 13 or 20, 1899
The journey was very pleasant, despite the fact unfortunately that my companions in the compartment were all males. There were a couple of frisky Italian boys who sang and laughed and joked with each other, sounding half like little girls, half like puppies. Things went well in Chiasso. "This fellow doesn't have anything of interest," the sly customs officer must have thought to himself. I spent the rest of the journey in deep conversation with a young man about Italian affairs, while a young German salesman on his first trip to Italy took great pains to show off the few Italian expressions he had acquired for just such an occasion with as much elegance and non-chalance as possible. It was as if someone with a trumpet that only payed two notes wanted to perform in an orchestra and was continually waiting--continuing longing for the next chance to blow his horn.