Thursday, June 5:
'Frau Sigurdrifa,' R. calls me today as he embraces me. He had a good night. Unfortunately a letter from our good musician Fürstenau leads us to the subject of the Uhlig letters, which are causing so much vexation.... Fidi is still not entirely well, but out of bed.
After lunch I read to R. a circular written by W. to the patrons, declaring that Parsifal will not be performed next year, describing the plan for the school, and inviting contributions. R. is very much against it - he says he is here, and if people care to approach him, he will not be found lacking, but he cannot commit himself to anything or offer his services for anything.
A drive to the Fantaisie; R. is a little put out by certain happenings, and in me there is just the feeling that I am to blame when everything is not exactly as he wants and needs it. Everything - worries, intentions, feelings of helplessness, the overwhelming burden of loving thoughts - I leave to my star, begging it to take charge and to exert its influence, to punish me when I am remiss, not to praise me when I succeed, but simply to shine on me.
My star! How often does my spirit gaze upon it! It is my good wish, my good yearning, that I see in the invisible heavens in the form of a star, which shines on me and comforts me when the waves of my heart break darkly and stormily over the depths from which it came - at times in their ferocity they obscure its light, but only now and again and for short periods; my call sounds to it from the depths: Let me be good, as my fate has been good!