Letter from Edward Renouf to Anny Schey von Koromla

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Monday

My Annerl!

If a day passes without a letter from you I think I won’t be able to hold out, far away as you are, and against good sense I want to hop on a train and come to you. The post is so slow! I’d long since sent you my third letter when I heard the first one had arrived. Your letters are infinitely dear to me. You must be convinced, as I am, that our finest days together are yet to come! Here’s a little verse for you:

Who knows love?
He who makes of love a game
And loves a dozen girls the same,
He shall never know it,
Only he who feels love’s pain.
He alone knows love who,
In the hours of separation
Tastes the bitter passion
Of sweet joy.
Only he who knows devotion,
He alone knows love.

I spent the easter break with the Plessens. Hans’s mother and his poor crippled sister were there too. We may go skiing on Wednesday – not sure yet. I’m hard at work. For the moment I’m writing short stories about as long as a printed page – until my mental powers are up to greater things! It’s cold here, and it’s raining. But all will be well! Yours, with – –

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