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Vienna IX, Berggasse 19
April 14, 1912
Dear Dr. Binswanger
An old man like me who shouldn't complain (and has decided not to complain) if his life comes to an end in a few years, feels especially aggrieved when one of his flourishing young friends, one of those who is meant to continue his own life, informs him that his life is in danger. On thinking it over, however, I gradually collected myself and remembered that in spite of the existing suspicions all the odds are in your favor and that you have only been reminded a little more conspicuously of the precariousness in which we all live and which we are so ready to forget.
But you will not forget it just now and life, as you say, will hold a special and enhanced charm for you. As for the rest, we will hope for the best, something our present-day knowledge permits us to do without self-deception. I shall of course keep the secret, as you have asked me to, proud of the privilege you have granted me. But it goes without saying that I would like to see you, as soon as this is possible without disturbing you. Perhaps at Whitsun? I trust you will let me know if this would suit you.