Meanwhile in my head, I'm undergoing open-heart surgery. - Anne Sexton.
226"Dearest, I reread all your letters today for signs of how, then, you knew that I would later stand in front of you displaying my passion, that I will later, though you already know it and knew it then, make love to you in words and ways you will forget only with great difficulty and after a long time. What wisdom is it that lets you write a future for me - seeing me where I was not yet, as I look at you now - that even I had not read for me and was powerless to invent. This must be the way that desire through its persistent longing makes what we will become for one another, as in the deferred space of love, a future consummation first imagines then writes itself as it waits for us to take ourselves down full length, length to length, our bodies finally side by side one on the other and again, searching for the points, compelling the intersection where two are not two any longer, subject and object indistinct, as with my eyes closed I cannot tell my pleasure from yours, and begin to feel that certain ecstasy we become in one another." - Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West dated 23 November 1926