Sunday, January 16:
In better spirits because of the children's improved health; games with them; in the afternoon sorted the files with R.
Yesterday R. played me the last movement of the Ninth Symphony, and we were once more quite overwhelmed by the naivete of the faith which blows through Schiller's poem as well as Beethoven's music. Who could teach himself that? Certainly my father, for instance, is a believer, but I do not call this faith.
In the evening R. read me King Lear.