“In one of my prewar lectures – they were devilishly daring! – I developed this excerpt from Goethe into the elegiac idea that there is no such thing as happiness, that it is either unattainable or illusory. Then, suddenly, a note was passed to me, a page torn out of a miniature notebook – squared paper: “ ‘But I’m in love – and I am happy! What do you say to that?’ ” “What did you say?” “What can anybody say?”
