You are suffering, my dearest creature -- only now have I learned that letters must be posted very early in the morning. Mondays, 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 shall arrange affairs between us so that I shall live and live with you, what a life! Thus! Thus without you -- pursued by the goodness of mankind hither and thither -- which I as little try to deserve as I deserve it.

Evening, Monday, July 6

Humility of man toward man -- it pains me -- and when I consider myself in connection with 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 intelligence from me until Saturday -- much as you love me, I love you more -- but do not ever conceal your thoughts from me -- good night -- as I am taking the baths I must go to bed. Oh, God! So near so far! Is our love not truly a celestial edifice -- firm as Heaven's vault.