'As for Loerke, there is a thousand times more in him than in a Gerald.
Gerald is so limited, there is a dead end to him. He would grind on at
the old mills forever. And really, there is no corn between the
millstones any more. They grind on and on, when there is nothing to
grind--saying the same things, believing the same things, acting the
same things. Oh, my God, it would wear out the patience of a stone.
'I don't worship Loerke, but at any rate, he is a free individual. He
is not stiff with conceit of his own maleness. He is not grinding
dutifully at the old mills. Oh God, when I think of Gerald, and his
work--those offices at Beldover, and the mines--it makes my heart sick.
What HAVE I to do with it--and him thinking he can be a lover to a
woman! One might as well ask it of a self-satisfied lamp-post. These
men, with their eternal jobs--and their eternal mills of God that keep
on grinding at nothing! It is too boring, just boring. However did I
come to take him seriously at all!
'At least in Dresden, one will have one's back to it all.
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