But now not another word, only kisses, and many of them for a thousand reasons—because it’s Sunday, because the weather is fine, or maybe because the weather is bad, because I write badly, and because I hope my writing will improve, and because I know so little about you and kisses are the only means of discovering something that counts,…

Franz Kafka, from a letter featured in Letters To Felice
(via violentwavesofemotion)

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