““As one puts a handkerchief before pent-in-breath- no: as one presses it against a wound out of which the whole of life, in a single gush, wants to stream, I held you to me: I saw you turn red from me. How could anyone express what took place between us? We made up for everything there was never time for. I matured strangely in every impulse of unperformed youth, and you, love, had wildest childhood over my heart…””
