It's a crime to live apart. I don't know what to do about it. I don't want you to come to grief. I'm helpless. But if you see a way, and whenever and however you want to arrange it, just do. I love you and I want you to be happy. I put myself like a child in your hands. Don't scold me if I fall asleep. It doesn't mean a thing, except that I'm tired. Do you understand? Please let me know that you forgive me.
Henry Miller · Letter to Anaïs Nin, October 6, 1933. A Literate Passion (1987)











