Excerpt from a letter that Richard Feynman wrote to his late wife, 16 months after she passed away at the age of 25.
When you were sick you worried because you could not give me something that you wanted to and thought I needed. You needn't have worried. Just as I told you then there was no real need because I loved you in so many ways so much. And now it is clearly even more true - you can give me nothing now yet I love you so that you stand in my way of loving anyone else - but I want you to stand there. You, dead, are so much better than anyone else alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment