"Thursday mg."

"Wittgenstein stayed until 12.30, when I turned him out. (I was sleepy, and slept till 10.15). He had been reading Lytton's little book*, which he didn't like—he said it made an impression of effort, like the gasps of an asthmatic person.—I got out the book, but couldn't see what he meant. The contemplation of him is instructive to me. I find I no longer ever talk to him about my work, but only about his. When there are no clear arguments, but only inconclusive considerations to be balanced, or unsatisfactory points of view to be set against each other, he is no good; and he treats infant theories with a ferocity which they can only endure when they are grown up. The result is that I become completely reserved, even about work."

*L. Strachey, Landmarks in French Literature (Home University Library).

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