Friendship Theme Analysis

But soon a call is sure to sound, so piercing, so insistent, so despairingly human, that at last I have to get up and peep through the slats of the Venetian blind to make quite sure that it is not—as I know very well it could not possibly be—for me.

Sally’s German was not merely incorrect; it was all her own. She pronounced every word in a mincing, specifically “foreign” manner. You could tell that she was speaking a foreign language from her expression alone.

“I’m awfully glad. I’ve wanted you to like me ever since we first met. But I’m glad you’re not in love with me, because, somehow, I couldn’t possibly be in love with you—so, if you had been, everything would have been spoilt.”

We went to the little cinema in Bülowstrasse, where they were showing a film about a girl who sacrificed her stage career for the sake of a Great Love, Home, and Children. We laughed so much that we had to leave before the end.

“I don’t know what it is… You seem to have changed, somehow…”

“How have I changed?”

“It’s difficult to explain… You don’t seem to have any energy or want to get anywhere. You’re so dilletante. It annoys me.”

Indeed, I was so absurdly upset that I began to wonder whether I hadn’t all this time, in my own particular way, been in love with Sally myself.

But no, it wasn’t love ether—it was worse. It was the cheapest, most childish kind of wounded vanity…. The awful sexual flair women have for taking the stuffing out of a man!

When you read this, Sally—if you ever do—please accept it as a tribute, the sincerest I can pay, to yourself and to our friendship.

And send me another postcard.

“You see, Christoph… Peter hurt me very much. I thought he was my friend. And then, suddenly, he left me—all alone…”

My mouth pressed against Erna’s hot, dry lips. I had no particular sensation of contact: all this was part of the long, rather sinister symbolic dream which I seemed to have been dreaming throughout the day. “I’m so happy, this evening…” Erna whispered.

“You, Christopher, with your centuries of Anglo-Saxon freedom behind you, with your Magna Carta engraved upon your heart, cannot understand that we poor barbarians need the stiffness of a uniform to keep us upright.”

“I’m getting rather tired of what you call your experiments. Tonight wasn’t the first of them by any means. The experiments fail, and then you’re angry with me. I must say, I think that’s very unjust… But what I can’t stand is that you show your resentment by adopting this mock-humble attitude… Actually, you’re the least humble person I’ve ever met.”