London, 8 May 1875
My dear Theo,
Thanks for your last letter. How is the patient?1
I’d already heard from Pa
that she was ill, but I didn’t know that it was as bad as you said.2
Write to me about this soon, if you will. Yes, old boy, ‘what shall we say?’3
. and Mr Tersteeg
were here and left again last Saturday. In my opinion they went a little too often to the Crystal Palace and other places that didn’t concern them. It seems to me they could also have come and seen where I lived.
You ask about Anna
, but we’ll discuss that another time.4
I hope and believe that I’m not what many think me to be at present, we’ll see, we have to give it time; people will probably say the same about you in a couple of years; at least if you continue to be what you are: my brother in two senses of the word.5
Regards, and my regards to the patient. With a handshake,
To act on the world one must die to oneself. The people that makes itself the missionary of a religious thought has no other country henceforth than that thought.
Man is not placed on the earth merely to be happy; nor is he placed here merely to be honest, he is here to accomplish great things through society, to arrive at nobleness, and to outgrow the vulgarity in which the existence of almost all individuals drags on.