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Fifty - two days, 11 hours, 11 minutes have passed since I parted from her, and already it is as though I had been fifty years away from her, although I can avow that not one hour has passed without her memory which has become such a close companion to my thoughts that now more than ever is it the food and sustenance of my soul; and if it should endure like this a few days more, as seems it must, I truly believe it will in every way have assumed the office of my soul, and I shall then live and thrive on the memory of her as do other men upon their souls, and I shall have no life but in this single thought.
Often I find myself recalling, and with what ease, certain words spoken to me, some in the car with the moon as witness, others at that window I shall always look upon so gladly, with all the many endearing and gracious acts I have seen the gentle lady perform--for all are dancing about my heart with a tenderness so wondrous that they inflame me with a strong desire to see her happy for the rest of her life.
I didn’t need glasses anymore...

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