Saturday, April 13:
R. says to me in the morning that everything is so muddled in the world. The good, the bad, the noble, the contemptible, all this stands outside time and space; if one were to think of all these various things as chains laid side by side, then everything would be in order, but the muddling influence of time makes it all seem as crazy as a set of building blocks which a child has thrown into confusion. The chain is eternal; its various links, thrown into confusion, give one the eternity all at once.
R. writes letters to all quarters concerning the performance. In the afternoon he comes to the dancing lesson and takes the little ones to the confectioner’s.