Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky’s diary, 1886

What an unfathomable gulf lies between the Old and the New Testament! Read the psalms of David, and at first it is impossible to understand why they have taken such…

... At tea I read through Alexis Tolstoi’s St. John Chrysostom and The Sinner, which reduced me to tears. While in this agitation of spirit, into which any strong…

.... Played through Nero, and cannot sufficiently marvel at the audacious coolness of the composer. The very sight of the score makes me fume. However, I only play…

While waiting for Korganov I busied myself with looking through his works. He came first, then Ippolitov-Ivanov. The poor Armenian (a very nice man and a good…

I decided to go and see Mackar. What I suffered, and how excited I was, passes description. Ten times I tried to go in, and always turned away again—even a large…

... Worked atrociously again. And yet people say I am a genius! Nonsense!

... Played Manon at home. It pleased me better than I expected. I spent moments of longing and loneliness.

... Played Manon. To-day Massenet seems to cloy with sweetness.

... Played Massenet at home. How stale he has grown! The worst of it is, that in this staleness I trace a certain affinity to myself.

Played the conclusion of the sickly Manon and Lefèbre’s inanities to the end.

... Worked a little before and after supper. Kouma’s Arioso is finished. Read Loti’s Pêcheurs d’Islande. Not very pleased with it. The tone of the descriptions…

Walked in the garden. Worked and completely finished the rough sketches for the opera. Thank God!

Tolstoi never speaks with love and enthusiasm of any prophet of Truth (with the exception of Christ), but rather with contempt and hatred. We do not know how he…

Played Brahms. It irritates me that this self-conscious mediocrity should be recognised as a genius. In comparison with him, Raff was a giant, not to speak of…