“In one of my prewar lectures—they were devilishly daring!—I developed this excerpt from Goethe into the elegiac idea that there is no such thing as happiness, that it is either unattainable or illusory. Then, suddenly, a note was passed to me, a page torn out of a miniature notebook—squared paper: “ ‘But I’m in love—and I am happy! What do you say to that?’ ” “What did you say?” “What can anybody say?”