Lieber Hermann Kesten, […] Ich bin schon lange genug hier, um aus dem Freiheits-Frühlingsrausch heraus und in eine kühlere Betrachtung der Dinge hineingeraten zu sein. Das Resultat ist ziemlich sonderbar, zumal es ja eine Scheinwelt ist, auf die man den kühlen Blick richtet. Und die Sache wird ziemlich kompliziert, wenn man bemerkt, daß man – ganz wie von ungefähr – zu so etwas wie einer Potenz dieser Scheinwelt geworden ist, nämlich eine Scheinfigur der Scheinwelt. Die charity die einen hergebracht hat, und die $ 100.- Wochenlohn, die sie vergibt, haben sich zu einem vitiosen Kreis verschweißt, dergestalt, daß sich die unsichtbaren Götter der charity in der Office nur den 100-$-Mann sehen, der eben deshalb zu nichts nütze sein kann, weil er nur $ 100.- in der Woche kriegt. [...]

There have been many movements in the world—some of them recorded in history as portentous events, others forgotten within a few years of their occurrence—which may each be compared to a wave on the surface of the Mediterranean. From the insignificant ripple to the wavehigh billow flecked with foam and breaking in cataracts, they have arisen only to subside to their original level, leaving the boundaries of land and sea where they have stood for a thousand years. There are other movements, on the contrary, which resemble the tides of the Ocean, wherein each wave obeys one uniform impetus, and carries the waters onward and upward along the shore. [...]

Der Ursprung meiner Familie ist unklar. Der Familienüberlieferung nach stammte sie vom montenegrinischen Stamm der Piperi, aber topographische und ethnographische Daten legen nahe, das sie sich von Stamm der Drobnjaci herleitete.[...]

My family's history is obscure. According to legend, the family came from the Montenegrin tribe of Piperi, though the toponymic and ethnographic data suggest that it may have descended from the tribe of Drobnjaci. The legend tells how one Gajun Vucinich murdered a Turk, sometime late in the eighteenth century, and escaped to avoid Turkish reprisal.[...]

''What I envy you is your liberty," observed M. de Bellegarde, „your wide range, your freedom to come and go, your not having a lot of people, who take themselves awfully seriously, expecting something of you. I live," he added with a sigh, „beneath the eyes of my admirable mother." [...]

It would be impossible for me either to appear at or write to your Convention in the aim of furnishing a contribution to your deliberations, except in connection with my own life-work, and the deep convictions which instigated that life-work, and which have become even more and more profound as I continued in it.[...]