Thoreau required of any writer a simple and sincere account of his life,

and no doubt if . . .

Stephen A. Black, Eugene O’Neill: Beyond Mourning and

Tragedy.

Nietzsche

Friedrich Nietzsche, Nietzsche contra Wagner.

. . . had been able to write straightforwardly of . . .

Stephen A. Black, Eugene O’Neill: Beyond Mourning and

Tragedy.
. . . the ugly growths and parasitic creepers infecting the dense Wagner-
Nietzsche forest, . . .

Robert W. Gutman, Richard Wagner: The Man, His Mind, and

His Music.

All Too Human

George Stephanopoulos, All Too Human: A Political Education.

. . . would not have been written or would have been very different.

Stephen A. Black, Eugene O’Neill: Beyond Mourning and

Tragedy.
I should not forget that during my last winter at the pond there was . . .

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

. . . a serious but . . .

Charles Dickens, Little Dorrit.

. . . welcome visitor, . . .

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

. . . a gentle, perceptive soul who would have been an ideal companion

in the woods, . . .

William O. Douglas, Go East Young Man: The Early Years—The

Autobiography of William O. Douglas.

. . . a young man named Nietzsche . . .

Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner.

. . . who at one time came through the village, through snow and rain
and darkness, till he saw my lamp through the trees, and shared with
me some long winter evenings. One of the last of the philosophers,—

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

. . . one of my . . .

Friedrich Nietzsche, Ecce Homo.

. . . Waldensian friends.

Primo Levi, The Periodic Table.

At that time . . .

Thomas Hardy, Far From The Madding Crowd.

I lived alone, in the woods, a mile from any neighbor, in a house which
I had built myself, on the shore of Walden Pond . . .

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

Now I conserve pathologically precise memories of my encounters in

that by now remote world: well, . . .

Primo Levi, The Periodic Table.

I had last seen him a weedy youth, timid and deferential, much given to
clicking of heels and bowing. Now in stalked a wiry, tough

man with a masterful air whose first act was to deposit on the table a . . .

Ernest Jones, The Life and Work of Sigmund Freud.

. . . draft copy of a . . .

Colleen Conway, Lakes Region Conservation Trust Has Big Plans

for Red Hill.

. . . book with the marks of a great destiny, . . .

Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good and Evil.

. . . a collection of aphorisms that bears the title Human, All-Too-Human.

Friedrich Nietzsche, The Genealogy of Morals.

I asked him if he . . .

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

. . . would like me . . .

Charles Dickens, Little Dorrit.

. . . to contribute to this book. If he would, he should tell me a story
and, if he would allow me to make a suggestion, it should be our kind
of story, in which you thrash about in the dark for a week or a month, it
seems that it will be dark forever, and you feel like throwing it all up
and changing your trade; then in the dark you espy a glimmer, proceed
groping in that direction, and the light grows, and finally order follows
chaos.

Primo Levi, The Periodic Table.

The young man stood in silence . . .

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Elective Affinities.

He would never reply.

Primo Levi, The Periodic Table.

I wish I could say that I had . . .

J. Moussaieff Masson, Final Analysis: The Making and Unmaking

of a Psychoanalyst.
. . . supplied him with ideas as much as with support.

Peter Gay, Freud: A Life for Our Time.

All that was futile. . . .

We can understand one another; but each of us is able to interpret himself to

himself alone.

Hermann Hesse, Demian.

He embraced me then. "Good luck, good luck." I never saw him again.
Claude Lanzmann, Shoah.

There was nothing we could do but part, because neither of us had

anything to give the other and neither of us could be fair to the other.

Hermann Hesse, Magister Ludi: The Glass Bead Game.

He never said . . .

Anthony Trollope, The Prime Minister.

. . . just how he went about creating a new personality, but it was a

difficult process.

E. James Lieberman, Acts of Will: The Life and Work of Otto

Rank.
Today I know that it is a hopeless task to try to dress a man in words,
make him live again on the printed page, especially a man

like . . .

Primo Levi, The Periodic Table.

. . . my dear young friend.

Bram Stoker, Dracula.

He was not the sort of person you can tell stories about, nor to whom
one erects monuments—he who laughed at all monuments: he lived
completely in his deeds, . . .

Primo Levi, The Periodic Table.

—which were nothing less than . . .

Thomas Hardy, The Woodlanders.

. . . the adventures of an . . .

Kate Douglas Wiggin, A Summer in a Canyon.

. . . unworldly young recluse . . .

Ernest Newman, The Life of Richard Wagner.

. . . and when they were over nothing of him remains—nothing but

words, precisely.

Primo Levi, The Periodic Table.

I kept . . .

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

. . . Prof. Nietzsche's book . . .

Cosima Wagner's Diaries (Wednesday, January 3, 1872).

. . . on my table through the summer, though I looked at . . .

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

. . . a page or two . . .

Oliver Wendell Holmes, The Guardian Angel.

. . . only now and then.

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

One thing more, which I might later forget:

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Elective Affinities.

I finally left . . .

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

. . . the distant solitude of the wood, where I was living quietly and
peacefully

Richard Wagner, Lohengrin.

I doubted if I should ever come back.

Robert Frost, Excerpt from “The Road Not Taken.”

At present I am a sojourner in civilized life again.

Henry David Thoreau, Walden.