My angel, my all, my very self—​Only a few words today, and that too with pencil (with yours)—​not till tomorrow will my lodgings be definitely determined upon—​what a useless waste of time is all this—​why this deep grief, where necessity speaks—​can our love endure otherwise than through sacrifices—​than by not demanding everything—​canst thou change it, that thou art not wholly mine, I not wholly thine?—​Oh, look at Nature in all her beauty, and compose your mind to the inevitable—​love demands everything and rightly so, and thus it is for me with you, for you with me—​but you forget so easily, that I must live for myself and for you as well, if we were wholly united, you would not feel this as painfully, just as little as I should—​my journey was dreadful. I did not arrive here until 4 o'clock yesterday morning. As there were few horses, the mail-coach chose another route; but what a dreadful one it was! At the last stage but one I was warned not to travel at night; attempted to scare me about a forest, but this only tempted me—​and I was wrong. The coach broke down on the terrible road, a road without a proper surface, a mere country road. If the two coachmen had not been with me, I should have remained stranded on the way. Esterhazy, traveling the usual road, had the same fate with eight horses, as I with four—​yet I felt to a certain extent that pleasure I always feel when I have successfully overcome difficulties. Now a quick change to things internal from things external. We shall surely see each other soon; moreover, today I cannot impart to you the observations I have made during these few days on my own life—​If our hearts were always closely united, I would make none of these. My heart is full of so many things to say to you—ah—there are moments when I feel that speech amounts to nothing at all—​Cheer up—remain my true, my only treasure, my all as I am yours. The gods must send us the rest, what for us must and shall be—​Your faithful LUDWIG.​You are suffering, my dearest creature—only now have I learned that letters must be posted very early in the morning on Mondays to Thursdays—the only days on which the mail-coach goes from here to K.—You are suffering—Ah, wherever I am, there you are also—I will arrange it with you and me that I can live with you. What a life!!! thus!!! without you—pursued by the goodness of mankind hither and thither—which I as little want to deserve as I deserve it—Humility of man towards man—it pains me—and when I consider myself in relation to the universe, what am I and what is He—whom we call the greatest—and yet—herein lies the divine in man—I weep when I reflect that you will probably not receive the first report from me until Saturday—Much as you love me—I love you more—But do not ever conceal yourself from me—good night—As I am taking the baths I must go to bed—Oh God—so near! so far! Is not our love truly a heavenly structure, and also as firm as the vault of heaven?​ Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved—Be calm—love me—today—yesterday—what tearful longings for you—you—you—my life—my all—farewell. Oh, continue to love me—never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.