Henri VIII

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    I gently press my lips to yours and try to forget everything, gazing into your lovely eyes – I lay on your precious breast, rested my tired head upon it still. This morning I tried to gain calm and strength for the separation. Goodbye wee one, Lovebird, Sunshine, Huzy mine, Own!
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    Yes, I have determined to wander about for so long far away, until I can fly into your arms and call myself quite at home with you, can send my soul enveloped by yours into the realm of spirits
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    O, my darling Eva, you did not know it. I picked up your card. It is there before me, and I talked to you as if you were here. I see you, as I did yesterday, beautiful, astonishingly beautiful.

    Yesterday, during the whole evening, I said to myself ‘She is mine!’ Ah! The angels are not as happy in Paradise as I was yesterday
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    prived me of my reason? This is a monomania which, this morning, terrifies me.

    I rise up every moment say to myself, ‘Come, I am going there!’ Then I sit down again, moved by the sense of my obligations. There is a frightful conflict. This is not a life. I have never before been like that. You have devoured everything.

    I feel foolish and happy as soon as I let myself think of you. I whirl round in a delicious dream in which in one instant I live a thousand years. What a horrible situation!

    Overcome with love, feeling love in every pore, living only for love, and seeing oneself consumed by griefs, and caught in a thousand spiders’ threads
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    Letter 10
    June 1835
    MY BELOVED ANGEL,

    I am nearly mad about you, as much as one can be mad: I cannot bring together two ideas that you do not interpose yourself between them.

    I can no longer think of nothing but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me.

    As for my heart, there you will always be — very much so. I have a delicious sense of you there. But my God, what is to become of me, if you have de‍
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    and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
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    if the Lord shall deliver me into the hands of my enemies so that they overcome and kill me…’? My dearest, how could you think such a thought? How could you give voice to it? Never may God be so forgetful of his humble
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    handmaids as to let them outlive you; never may he grant us a life which would be harder to bear than any form of death.
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