ting my strength.
Joking apart, I have convinced myself that I am not the worst
idler, and that I am able to work twice as much if necessity
demands it.

It often happens that he who wishes to better the opinion
which others have formed of him makes it worse; but, I think,
as regards you, I can make it neither better nor worse, even
if I occasionally praise myself. The sympathy which I have
for you forces your heart to have the same sympathetic
feelings for me. You are not master of your thoughts, but I
command mine; when I have once taken one into my head I do
not let it be taken from me, just as the trees do not let
themselves be robbed of their green garment which gives them
the charm of youth. With me it will be green in winter also,
that is, only in the head, but--God help me--in the heart the
greatest ardour, therefore, no one need wonder that the
vegetation is so luxuriant. Enough...yours for ever...Only
now I notice that I have talked too much nonsense. You see
yesterday's impression [he refers to the name-day festivity
already mentioned] has not yet quite passed away, I am still
sleepy and tired, because I danced too many mazurkas.

Around your letters I twine a little ribbon which my ideal
once gave me. I am glad the two lifeless things, the letters
and the ribbon, agree so well together, probably because,
although they do not know each other, they yet feel that they
both come from a hand dear to me.

Even the most courteous of mortals, unless he be wholly destitute of
veracity, will hesitate to deny the truth of Chopin's confession that
he has been talking nonsense. But apart from the vagueness and
illogicalness of several of the statements, the foregoing effusion is
curious as a whole: the thoughts turn up one does not know where, how,
or why--their course is quite unaccountable; and if they passed through
his mind in an unbroken connection, he fails to give the slightest
indication of it. Still, although Chopin's philosophy of life, poetical
rhapsodies, and meditations on love and friendship, may not afford us
much light, edification, or pleasure, they help us substantially to
realise their author's character, and particularly his temporary mood.

Great as was the magnetic power of the ideal over Chopin, great as was
the irresolution of the latter, the long delay of his departure must
not be attributed solely to these causes. T