Letter from Freud to Fliess, October 27, 1897

Vienna, October 27, 1897
IX., Berggasse 19

Dear Wilhelm,

It seems that I cannot “await”1 your answer. You certainly cannot offer the explanation for your silence that you have been whirled back with an elemental force to times when reading and writing were bothersome chores for you, as happened to me on Sunday when I wanted to celebrate your not-yet-fortieth birthday with a

letter — but I hope it was something just as harmless. As for myself, I have nothing to tell you about except analysis, which I think will be the most interesting thing about me for you as well. Business is hopelessly bad; in general, by the way, right up to the top of the profession, and so I live only for the “inner work.” I am gripped and pulled through ancient times2 in quick association of thoughts; my moods change like the landscapes seen by a traveler from a train, and as the great poet, using his privilege to ennoble (sublimate), puts it:

And also first fright and discord. Many a sad secret of life is here followed back to its first roots; many a pride and privilege are made aware of their humble origins. All of what I experienced with my patients, as a third [person] I find again here — days when I drag myself about dejected because I have understood nothing of the dream, of the fantasy, of the mood of the day; and then again days when a flash of lightning illuminates the interrelations and lets me understand the past as a preparation for the present. I am beginning to perceive in the determining factors large, general, framing motives, as I should like to call them, and other motives, fill-ins, which vary according to the individual's experiences. At the same time several, though not yet all, doubts about my conception of neurosis are being resolved. An idea about resistance has enabled me to put back on course all those cases of mine that had gone somewhat astray