I am a very unhappy human being and you, dearest, simply had to be summoned to create an equilibrium for all this misery.

People label themselves with all sorts of adjectives. I can only pronounce myself as 'nauseatingly miserable beyond repair'.

Yours

(now I'm even losing my name - it was getting shorter and shorter all the time and is now: Yours)

Auch ist es vielleicht nicht eigentlich Liebe wenn ich sage, daß Du mir das Liebste bist; Liebe ist, dass Du mir das Messer bist, mit dem ich in mir wühle.

An Milena Jesenska (14. September 1920)

In argument similes are like songs in love; they describe much, but prove nothing.

It occurs to me that I really can't remember your face in any precise detail. Only the way you walked away through the tables in the café, your figure, your dress, that I still see.