Saturday, May 20:
In my notebook I find written down for today, “Similar thoughts, symphony” now, six weeks later, I can no longer explain this, and remember only that R. and I so often had the same thoughts. When we talked about spas like Wiesbaden at lunch, he defined them as offering “cheap luxury and expensive vulgarity.” The skies are gray, and our evening guests, among them our two musicians, provide more vexation than relaxation.