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Vienna, July 9, 1913
IX., Berggasse 19
Dear friend,
Really? Can I already congratulate you on your 40th birthday? Your wistful letter has deeply moved me, first and foremost because it reminded me of my own 40th, since which I have several times shed my skin, which, as you know, happens every seven years. At the time (1896) I was at the nadir of desolation, had lost all my old friends, and had not yet acquired any new ones; no one cared about me, and the only thing that kept me going was a bit of defiance and the beginning of the Interpretation of