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 Tracy A. Sugarman to his wife, May 1, 1944

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but plants deep his roots and glories in the heat of the sun. He grows, radiates, expands, prospers - he grows towards his god of light and warmth - and strains unceasingly to get even closer. I'm tired of this cold moonlight, darling - I want your warmth. I need your light. I must have growth - and I must have you to grow, my darling. Its not a temporal thing - like clouds, and storms, and patches of sunshine - its not the dancing ever changing play of God's play things. Clouds are blown apart - and storms ride out their stormy course and disappear in thunderous chariots to other spheres - rains fall - and subside into mist as noiseless as night. Their beauty is an evanescent thing - it strikes you dumb with wonder and breathless with its passion and change. But ours is unchanging, Junie. Its as timeless as dreaming, as constant as the beat of two hearts in time. Our love is the master of our being, Junie - it has made us different, something as unique as a snowflake - it has set us apart from all else - forever. In our sphere we've known a grace and an affinity that noone in the world can emulate, or touch, or steal. What has become ours' is ours alone, Junie - it's one perfect ever-replenishing fountain - that will be fed and ever reborn by the selfless completness of the love we bear each other. Its a fountain of infinite power and enchantment. It can transform harsh adversity into the mellowness of an ever deeper sympathy and understanding - and

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 Tracy A. Sugarman to his wife, May 1, 1944

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  October 26, 2011
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