May Byron - A Day with Robert Schumann

Thus, you perceive, he is considerably debarred from expressing himself in sounds, no less than in words: he must perforce retire more and more within himself. The ease with which he writes is balanced by the difficulty with which he speaks: and bitterly he has complained, "People are often at a loss to understand me, and no wonder! I meet affectionate advances with icy reserve, and often wound and repel those who wish to help me… It is not that I fail to appreciate the very smallest attention, or to distinguish every subtle change in expression and attitude: it is a fatal something in my words and manner which belies me."

He is, indeed, only paralleled by the Lotus Flower of his own delicious song, – shrinking from the daylight of publicity, and softly unfolding to the gentle rays of love.

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