It has trembled on my pen in every line I have written to you -- yet I have never dared to shape it into words before . I know not how I dare now . I only know that I must . What a delight to write it out and know that you will read it . Tonight the mood is on me to tell it to you recklessly and lavishly , never pausing to stint or weigh words . Sweetheart , I love you -- love you -- love you -- dear true , faithful woman soul , I love you with all the heart of a man . Ever since I first saw you I have loved you . I can never come to tell you so in spoken words ; I can only love you from afar and tell my love under the guise of impersonal friendship . It matters not to you , but it matters more than all else in life to me . I am glad that I love you , dear -- glad , glad , glad . There was much more , for it was a long letter . When I had read it I buried my burning face in my hands , trembling with happiness . This strange confession of love meant so much to me ; my heart leaped forth to meet it with answering love . What mattered it that we could never meet -- that I could not even guess who my lover was ? Somewhere in the world was a love that was mine alone and mine wholly and mine forever . What mattered his name or his station , or the mysterious barrier between us ? Spirit leaped to spirit unhindered over the fettering bounds of matter and time . I loved and was beloved . Nothing else mattered . I wrote my answer to his letter .
I XXXXX it fearlessly and unstintedly .
answering know leaped loved mattered meant pausing tell write wrote