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1003 Seestrasse, Küsnach-Zürich,
19 April 1911
Dear Professor Freud,
I got home yesterday evening in order to leave tomorrow for the Congress in Stuttgart.1 Since we roared (not rode) through the countryside, I was unable to write you in a sensible way, for I would have had to write to you sensibly and that is not possible on picture postcards. You can easily imagine that the shades of Honegger accompanied me on my journey. This blow struck home. How wasteful children are, even with their own, precious, irreplaceable lives! Not to speak of friendship and the distress of other people! When I contemplate his fate I cannot but admit that suicide is a thousand times better than sacrificing the most brilliant gifts of the mind in all their abundance to the Moloch of neurosis and psychosis. If only he had left off quarrelling with the order of the world and instead quietly