“Thursday Morning, 9.30. On a summer’s day like this I lie in bed as if cradled in sweet arms. It makes one feel so indolent and languid. And when he sang, ‘The Linden Tree’ last time (I thought it so beautiful that I asked him to sing me a whole forest-full of linden trees), the lines on his face looked like old, age-old, tracks through a landscape as ancient as creation itself.”

(cited: E Hillesum, An Interrupted Life p. 115)