And fulfilment means you--my love for you, the giving of it, of myself, of all I am, all I desire, all I care for, all I believe, into your keeping--into your embrace.

That, for me, is fulfilment of life.
"Even in your arms you tell me that there is to be no fulfilment.
I have acquiesced, wondering, bewildered, confused.

But, dear, you can never tell me so again--if we live--if I live to look into your eyes again--never, never.

For I shall not believe it, nor shall I let you believe it, if only we can win through this deathly battle nightmare which is rising between us--if ever we can find each other again, touch each other through this red, unreal glare of war.
"Oh, Philip--Philip--only to have your arms around me! Only to touch you! You shall not tell me then that our destinies do not mingle.

They shall mingle like two wines; they shall become utterly confused in one another; I was meant for that; I will not die, isolated by you, unknown to you, not belonging to you! I will not die alone this way in the world, with no deeper memory to take into the unknown than that you said you loved me.
"God alone knows what change misery and sorrow and love and death have accomplished in me; never have I stood so alone upon this earth; never have I cared so for life, never have I so desired to be a deathless part of yours.
"If you love me you will make me part of yours--somehow, some way.
And, Philip, if there is no way, yet there is always one way if we both live.