I'm A Revolutionary, Money Means Nothing To

My Piano Has Not Yet Arrived. How Did You Send It? By Marseilles Or By Perpignan? I Dream Music But I Cannot Make Any Because Here There Are Not Any Pianos . . . In This Respect This Is A Savage Country.

England Is A Country Of Pianos, They Are Everywhere.

As Something Has Involuntarily Crept Into My Head Through My Eyes,i Love To Indulge It, Even Though It May Be All Wrong.

Here, Waltzes Are Called Works! And Strauss And Lanner, Who Play Them For Dancing, Are Called Kapellmeistern. This Does Not Mean That Everyone Thinks Like That; Indeed, Nearly Everyone Laughs About It; But Only Waltzes Get Printed.

It's A Huge Carthusian Monastery, Stuck Down Between Rocks And Sea, Where You May Imagine Me, Without White Gloves Or Hair Curling, As Pale As Ever, In A Cell With Such Doors As Paris Never Had For Gates. The Cell Is The Shape Of A Tall Coffin, With An Enormous Dusty Vaulting, A Small Window... Bach, My Scrawls And Waste Paper - Silence - You Could Scream - There Would Still Be Silence. Indeed, I Write To You From A Strange Place.