You do not currently have permission to view the full text for this document. Please sign in to an account with an active subscription or contact support.
B., September 6, 1899
Dear Wilhelm,
Today is your wedding day, which I remember very well. But bear with me a little longer. I am completely into the dream [book], am writing eight to ten pages a day, and have just got over the worst in the psychology — it was agonizing. I do not even want to think about how it has turned out. You will tell me whether it can stand at all, but in the galley proofs; reading the manuscript is too much drudgery, and everything can still be changed. In the end I did put more into it than I intended; one always does as one goes deeper, but I am afraid it is — bunk;1 or, as you would say, Quatsch [nonsense]. And then they'll really let me have it! When the storm breaks over me, I shall escape to your guest room. You will find something to praise in it in any event, because you are as much on my side as the others are against me.
I have just now received sixty galleys, which I am sending to you in the same mail. I am almost ashamed of exploiting you in this way, and you will not need my reciprocal service in biology because you can rely on your own sense of discrimination and are dealing with light, not darkness; with the sun, not the unconscious. But please do not try to tackle the whole thing all at once; send me the galleys on which you exert your censorship in several batches, so that I receive your corrections before I send off mine; I shall return the complete set. There is a tremendous amount of new material in it, which I