She stood before him and surrendered herself to him, sky and wood and brook,
all was decked out in lovely new colors, all belonged to him, and spoke his tongue.
And instead of merely winning a woman, he had taken the whole world to his heart,
and each star in the heaven glowed in him, and twinkling, communicated desire to his soul.
He had loved, and thereby had found himself. But most people love only to lose themselves thereby.
My whole life seemed to be contained in my love for Mother Eve.
But every day she looked different. Many times I felt decidedly that it was not her person for which my whole being was striving,
but that she was a symbol of my inward self, and that she wished only to lead me to see more deeply into myself.
I often heard words fall from her lips, which sounded like answers to the burning questions asked by my subconscious self.
Then again there were moments when in her presence I burnt with desire, and afterwards kissed objects she had touched.
And by degrees sensual and unsensual love, reality and symbol merged into one another.
Then it happened that I could think of her at home in my room with quiet fervor.
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