If you were happy with me I could be content, but I see clearly that you are not, and this is what makes my heart sore.

If I could do better for your happiness, I would do it and hold my peace; but that is not possible.

I have left nothing undone that I thought would contribute to your felicity.

At this moment, while I am writing to you, overwhelmed with distress and misery, I have no more true or lively desire than to finish my days in closest union with you.

You know my lot,--it is such as one could not even dare to describe, for no one could believe it.