Of course these are only minor matters. I can give other
examples: Let somebody sit in a room next to yours and sing a single verse
of a certain song, sing it endlessly, without ceasing, sing it through and
begin again; tell me--would this not drive you crazy? Where I live there
is such a person, a tailor; he sits and sings and sews, and his singing is
unceasing. You cannot stand it; you get up in a fury and go out. Then you
run into another torture. You meet a man, an acquaintance, with whom you
enter into a conversation. But during this conversation you suddenly
happen to think of something pleasant, something good that is in store for
you, perhaps--something you wish to return to later and thoroughly enjoy.
But while you stand there talking you forget that pleasant thought, forget
it cleanly and cannot recall it at any cost! Then comes the pain, the
suffering; you are racked on the wheel because you have lost this
exquisite, secret enjoyment to which you could have treated yourself at no
cost or trouble."
"It _must_ be strange! But you are going to the country, to the pine
woods now; you will get well again," says Mrs. Hanka, and feels like a
mother.
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