, it was Paris, and I thought it heaven; but now it is a vast desert of desolation and loneliness. It is like the face of a clock, bereft of its hands.
All the pictures that hung in my memory before I knew you have faded and given place to our radiant moments together.
Now I cannot live apart from you—your words, even though bitter?dispel all the cares of the world and make me happy; my art has been suckled by them and softly rocked in their tender cradle; they are as necessary to me now as sunlight and air.
I am as hungry for them as for food, I am thirsty for them, and my thirst is overwhelming. Your words are my food, your breath my wine. You are everything to me.
Your Sarah
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