All I can say is that I am mad about you. I tried to write a letter and I couldn’t. I am waiting impatiently to see you. Tuesday is so far off. And not just Tuesday- I am wondering when you will come to stay overnight, when I can have you for a long spell. It torments me to see you just a few hours and then surrender you. When I see you, all that I wanted to say vanishes. The time is so precious and words are extraneous. But you make me so happy, because I can talk to you.
I live in perpetual expectancy. You come and time slips away in a dream. It is only when you go that I realize completely your presence. And then it is too late.
Henry Miller to Anaïs Nin (via falseknights)