Here I am back at the old dump once more feeling more lonely and heartsick than ever. It sure is hard to have to leave you this way, and I am fervently praying to all the Gods that the time will soon come which will bring surcease of all these soul?aches which make life so horrible and full of pain. Ah My Own, My Own, how I love you, and how the relentless hours drag their leaden feet when I am not with you!
I am thinking of last night and of all the wonder which is you, and my great desire moans from the depths of its abysmal aloneness. “Give us, ah, give us but yesterday!”
Life has become for me a phantom show in which there are but two realities—you and my love for you. All else is misty shadow of illusion, vain fretting most valueless. I exist as I am reflected in you. I can only endure myself when I see my image in your eyes—in their gray pool does this Narcissus see himself, and admire, and feel so proud to be there.
“It's a long, long way to Tipperary” and countless aeons before my birthday when I shall again feel your soft warm lips on mine. I could shake the skies with my fruitless cries, gnash my sharp (according to you) teeth with my rage at fate—but what's the use? Time will pass however slowly, and again I shall hold you in my arms, O Dear One, O Most Adorable of All Women. A long kiss! Good night.
Friday, October 9,1914
Have worked pretty hard today. Baker gave us back the stories he wishes us to adapt this morning and requested us to write a scenario which we must hand in before we start on the play itself. I started right in and have written about a thousand words of mine already. Baker has injected so many “don'ts” into