The Touch of the Soul

I need no body of yours to love you. I don't know if my connection with you will endure a lifetime or fade, but my love for you—boundless and inexhaustible—will live on.

The moment of falling asleep with my head on your chest returns to me again and again in thought; when you hold me close and tender, it feels as though no incompleteness remains in my life; your tenderness fills me more than your passion ever could.

By loving you, I have learned what love truly means—I never grasped its essence before in this way. In knowing you, I have come to know my own heart. Whoever has not yet loved has yet to know themselves.

Until now I have given you nothing, and I find no peace in this emptiness. There is no greater joy than to give a gift to the beloved—do not rob me of that joy.

I may live sixty, seventy years, or I may be taken suddenly. Even if I live another thirty, thirty-five years, I will let no one else draw near. If you call me to you, I cannot stay away—yet going to bed with you is not something mandatory for me, for soul can touch soul. To have you, I need only you.

When I write to you, I feel: if only I could write more! Even all these words do not fill my heart, so in silence I finish the rest of our conversation within myself.

I believe in telepathy. And if I tell you something strange, it may astonish you... these days it seems to me that wherever I go, I take you with me—not for a single second are we apart.

If it were possible, give me all the pain in your heart; if I could heal all your sorrows, then I would be the happiest person in the world.

I know you can never love me. I did not love you in hope of your love. I loved you because I cannot live without loving you well. If my messages ever cease, do not think I have forgotten you. If I forgot you, I would forget myself!

If I should die suddenly, that news may never reach your ears. This is one of my deepest griefs.