of those delicate traits and utterances of the soul, which to one who
does not know the highest seem like bliss itself, are merely the
common atmosphere of our spiritual breath and life.

The words are weak and vague. Furthermore, in this throng of
impressions I could only repeat anew the one inexhaustible feeling of
our original harmony. A great future beckons me on into the
immeasurable; each idea develops a countless progeny. The extremes of
unbridled gayety and of quiet presentiment live together within me. I
remember everything, even the griefs, and all my thoughts that have
been and are to be bestir themselves and arise before me. The blood
rushes wildly through my swollen veins, my mouth thirsts for the
contact of your lips, and my fancy seeks vainly among the many forms
of joy for one which might at last gratify my desire and give it rest.
And then again I suddenly and sadly bethink me of the gloomy time when
I was always waiting without hope, and madly loving without knowing
it; when my innermost being overflowed with a vague longing, which it
breathed forth but rarely in half-suppressed sighs.

Oh, I should have thought it all a fairy-tale that there could be such
joy, such love as I now feel, and such a woman, who could be my most
tender Beloved, my best companion, and at the same time a perfect
friend. For it was in friendship especially that I sought for what I
wanted, and for what I never hoped to find in any woman. In you I
found it all, and more than I could wish for; but you are so unlike
the rest. Of what custom or caprice calls womanly, you know nothing.
The womanliness of your soul, aside from minor peculiarities, consists
in its regarding life and love as the same thing. For you all feeling
is infinite and eternal; you recognize no separations, your being is
an indivisible unity. That is why you are so serious and so joyous,