Liszt to Marie d'Agoult -- Paris, New Year's Day, 1834.

So I couldn’t see you yesterday and I can’t see you today. Today, when everyone is well and everyone is eating sweets, I am coughing and drinking barley water. What does that portend for 1834? So do write me a word. It is you alone in all the world who are life for me and whom I grieve not to see. Write to me. Tell me about yesterday, about last night. How did you do your hair? Did you cough? Did you waltz? Tell me all that. May my illness be like an absence, like a couple of days spent far away from you. Let me read you. I am better this morning. I should like to be able to go to the Theatre des Italiens tomorrow. In other words, I should like to be able to see you. When will that be? Cursed cold — if only I hadn’t lost a brother from a chest complaint. There was a time when I would have been delighted for a chill to put an end to my life. Now, I should be very sorry to die. Why? I love you. I want to see your fair hair again, and your blue eyes, and to hear you speak again, and to read more of your letters. I want to live. I love you…