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)

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

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.

Sensual love deceives one as to the nature of heavenly love; it could not do so alone, but since it unconsciously has the element of heavenly love within it, it can do so.