Whether I am a fool or a villain I know not; but this is certain, I am also most deserving of pity <…> My soul has been spoiled by the world, my imagination is unquiet, my heart insatiate. To me everything is of little moment. I become as easily accustomed to grief as to joy, and my life grows emptier day by day. One expedient only is left to me — travel.
“As soon as I can, I shall set off — but not to Europe. Heaven forfend! I shall go to…
