I study you so much to discover the possible flaws, the weak points, the danger zones. I don’t find them—not any. That means I am in love, blind, blind. To be blind forever!
According to Henry Miller, being in love is being blind.
[And why do we not write love letters anymore? They are so lovely. And they certainly last longer than a text message. Unless you’re the obsessive-compulsive kind who backs-up text messages on the computer. Then, good for you!]