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27 June 1937
In the Post bus from the Nebelküche of St. Gallen to Rehetobel. From there on foot to Heiden and thence to the village of Thal, lying in a green cradle, the home of my maternal ancestors. Around lunchtime through vineyards of the Buchberg up to the lokal: Zum Steinernen Tisch, which gives a good view on the Bodensee and its environs. Later during strong storms through the idyllic village of Buchen over the Rorschacherberg to Rorschach. Return by train.
"Do you know what my fate is? Pay attention! All the good people who believe they can order me around and criticize me are fanatical disciples of Hermann Hesse. They don't have confidence in me: for them there's only either/or: 'Either you write like Hesse or you are, and remain, a failure. They judge me that extremely. They have no confidence in my work. And that's the reason I've landed in the sanitarium. My halo is missing. Only with one can you be accepted in literature. Any sort of nimbus, of heroism, of martyrdom or the like, and the ladder to success is there . . . One sees me mercilessly, as I am. Therefore no one takes me too seriously."
Interjections: "When the newspaper smiles to itself, humanity cries." "Nature doesn't need to exert herself to be meaningful. She simply is."
"How many Nobel Prize winners will be long forgotten, when Jeremias Gotthelf survives in all Gem¨tlichkeit. As long as there is a Kanton of Bern, there will be a Jeremias Gotthelf."
"The novelist C.F.W.: he looks like a ham actor." "Luck is not a good thing for writers. It doesn't make many demands. It needs no commentary. It can sleep all rolled up, like a hedgehog. Compared to grief, tragedy, and comedy, which are full of explosive power. One must be able to launch them at the right time. Then, they climb to the heavens and illuminate the whole region."