AUGUST 28. If my ills would admit of any cure ， they would certainly
  be cured here. This is my birthday， and early in the morning I received
  a packet from Albert. Upon opening it ， I found one of the pink ribbons
  which Charlotte wore in her dress the first time I saw her， and which
  I had several times asked her to give me. With it were two volumes in
  duodecimo of Wetstein's "Homer，" a book I had often wished for ， to
  save me the inconvenience of carrying the large Ernestine edition with
  me upon my walks. You see how they anticipate my wishes ， how well they
  understand all those little attentions of friendship， so superior to
  the costly presents of the great， which are humiliating. I kissed the
  ribbon a thousand times ， and in every breath inhaled the remembrance
  of those happy and irrevocable days which filled me with the keenest joy.
  Such， Wilhelm， is our fate. I do not murmur at it ： the flowers of
  life are but visionary. How many pass away， and leave no trace behind
  —— how few yield any fruit—— and the fruit itself ， how rarely does
  it ripen！ And yet there are flowers enough ！ and is it not strange，
  my friend ， that we should suffer the little that does really ripen，
  to rot， decay， and perish unenjoyed ？ Farewell ！ This is a glorious
  summer. I often climb into the trees in Charlotte's orchard ， and shake
  down the pears that hang on the highest branches. She stands below， and
  catches them as they fall.
  AUGUST 3O. Unhappy being that I am！ Why do I thus deceive myself ？
  What is to come of all this wild， aimless， endless passion？ I cannot
  pray except to her. My imagination sees nothing but her ： all surrounding
  objects are of no account ， except as they relate to her. In this dreamy
  state I enjoy many happy hours， till at length I feel compelled to tear
  myself away from her. Ah， Wilhelm， to what does not my heart often compel
  me！ When I have spent several hours in her company ， till I feel completely
  absorbed by her figure， her grace， the divine expression of her thoughts，
  my mind becomes gradually excited to the highest excess ， my sight grows
  dim ， my hearing confused， my breathing oppressed as if by the hand
  of a murderer ， and my beating heart seeks to obtain relief for my aching
  senses. I am sometimes unconscious whether I really exist. If in such
  moments I find no sympathy， and Charlotte does not allow me to enjoy
  the melancholy consolation of bathing her hand with my tears， I feel
  compelled to tear myself from her ， when I either wander through the
  country ， climb some precipitous cliff ， or force a path through the
  trackless thicket ， where I am lacerated and torn by thorns and briers
  ； and thence I find relief. Sometimes I lie stretched on the ground，
  overcome with fatigue and dying with thirst ； sometimes， late in the
  night ， when the moon shines above me， I recline against an aged tree
  in some sequestered forest， to rest my weary limbs ， when ， exhausted
  and worn， I sleep till break of day. O Wilhelm ！ the hermit's cell，
  his sackcloth ， and girdle of thorns would be luxury and indulgence compared
  with what I suffer. Adieu ！ I see no end to this wretchedness except
  the grave.
  SEPTEMBER 3. I must away. Thank you ， Wilhelm， for determining my
  wavering purpose. For a whole fortnight I have thought of leaving her.
  I must away. She has returned to town ， and is at the house of a friend.
  And then， Albert —— yes， I must go.
  SEPTEMBER 1O. Oh， what a night ， Wilhelm！ I can henceforth bear
  anything. I shall never see her again. Oh ， why cannot I fall on your
  neck， and， with floods of tears and raptures， give utterance to all
  the passions which distract my heart！