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mournfulroses

Emily Brontë, from The Collected Works & Poetry of Emily Brontë; “Wuthering Heights,”

mournfulroses

Albert Camus, from a letter to María Casares featured in Correspondance, 1944-1959

dearboypete

To A Stranger

Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you, You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me as of a dream,) I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured, You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me, I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours only nor left my body mine only, You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you take of my beard, breast, hands, in return, I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or wake at night alone, I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

― Walt Whitman Leaves of Grass the Deathbed edition