"Vaslav Nijinsky was almost immobile at the last moment of his real life. Only his expressive hands moved, turning magazine pages as he waited outside the office of a pioneer psychiatrist at a Zurich asylum. After a consultation the doctor privately announced to Nijinsky's wife, the incorrigible Romola de Pulszky, that her husband was incurably mad.[…]
Fini. Just like that. Page 213, within days of Nijinsky's 30th birthday in 1919, and the biography is almost all over but for a coda on a fading legend. Half his short life had been in training, first as the infant-phenomenon son of dancers scrabbling around the Russian provincial entertainment circuit – here the boy begged a tap lesson from a black American duo, there he fell into a circus animal act, or taught himself piano. [...]"
— Veronica Horwell,
The Guardian
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