Only on quiet summer days like this, when one in the green woods has nature alone at heart, and knows not whether there are human beings. without, or he is living entirely alone in the world, then there is a stir in the graveyard of memory, the dead thoughts, rise again, the full omnipotence of love returns to the heart and streams out from that beautiful being who once looked upon me with her deep unfathomable eyes. Then it seems as if the love for the millions were lost in the love for the one, my good angel, and my thoughts are dumb in the presence of the incomprehensible enigma of endless and everlasting love.