There is always something missing that torments me.

My countrymen have commissioned a bust of the Republic. It will be placed on the fountain of my native town.

When you left on Saturday, I felt a horrible void, I saw you everywhere, on the beach, in your room, in the garden: impossible for me to get used to the idea that you had left.

I am scared; I don't know what is going to happen to me. What was the point of working so hard and of being talented, to be rewarded like this? Never a penny, tormented all my life. It is horrible; one cannot imagine it.

I sleep completely naked to make me believe you are here, but when I wake up it is not the same thing. Most of all, don't deceive me with other women any more.

Madhouses are houses made on purpose to cause suffering . . . I cannot stand any longer the screams of these creatures.

Don't fear anything for your letters, they are burnt one by one and I hope you do the same with mine.