Now, my dear, if I may call you mine, now we’ve overcome our arbitrary restraints, you with a smile and I with a question, what is the meaning of the chance that we are kind or we are special? This is not a metaphysical puzzle. I want you to say with a laugh we’ll fall in love and live of course as friends forever; I want to show you that I’m the kind of man whose evils you’ll accept as virtues; I think I’ll see that you’re a woman whose virtues and powers however fallable are better than the ideals that I imagine. I’m curious. Let’s take a chance to see what is meant to be. I believe in questions that belief can’t answer, and I wonder if dreams come true. I hope you feel free to disbelieve that it’s as easy as what I want or think. We are not necessarily what we think we are, and what we want is not all that matters. Love is something we can neither fake nor deny.
13 February 1980