Letter from Sigmund Freud to Martha Bernays, August 18, 1882

Why do I o'er my paper once more bend?

Ask not too closely, dearest one, I pray:

For, to speak truth, I've nothing now to say;

Yet to thy hands at length 'twill come, dear friend.

Since I can come not with it, what I send

My undivided heart shall now convey,

With all its joys, hopes, pleasures, pains, today:

All this hath no beginning, hath no end.1