Three minutes after you have gone. No, I can't restrain it.
I tell you what you already know - I love you.
It is this I destroyed over and over again. At Dijon I wrote you long passionate letters - if you had remained in Switzerland I would have sent them - but how could I send them to Louveciennes? Anais, I can't say much now - I am in a fever. I could scarcely talk to you because I was continually on the point of getting up and throwing my arms around you.
(A love letter from author Henry Miller to poet Anais Nin on March 4, 1932)
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