You have been the one thing wanting to me my whole life
long. I believe that no soul is perfect alone, and that each of us
must have a partner-soul _somewhere,_ kept apart from us--by false
marriages, perhaps, or distance, or death, but still to be ours, if
not in this state, then in some other, when both are perfect enough to
make the union possible. We are not all fit for that love which is the
beginning of heaven, and can have no end. [Transcriber's Note: Lengthy
footnote relocated to chapter end.] Does this seem fanciful to you? It
would comfort me if we were ever separated. _If_--I cannot tell you
how it makes my heart sink just to look at that word, although I know
it does not suggest anything that is possible in our case. What power
would take you from me now, when there is no one else in the whole
wide world for me _but_ you? and always you! and only you! You, with
your ready sympathy and perfect refinement; your wit, your rapid
changes, your ideality, your kindness, your cruelty, and the terrible
discontent which makes you untrue to yourself. You are my world. But
unless I can be to you what you are to me, you will always be one of
the lonely ones.
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