Richard Feynman, love letter to his wife: "To Arlene" скачать в хорошем качестве

Richard Feynman, love letter to his wife: "To Arlene"

Richard Feynman, the famous physicist and Nobel laureate, lost his beloved wife, Arline Greenbaum, on June 16, 1945. She was only 25 years old and suffered from tuberculosis. Their love story was passionate and marked by an extraordinary bond, despite the illness that accompanied them throughout their marriage. Nearly two years after Arline’s death, on October 17, 1946—the day that should have been her birthday—Feynman wrote her a letter. He never sent it, but kept it in an envelope marked “To Arline.” This letter was found after his death in 1988. It remains one of the most moving testaments to his enduring love. --- Letter from Richard Feynman to his wife: October 17, 1946 My dear Arline, I adore you, my love. I know how much you love to hear it—but I’m not writing it just because you enjoyed it—I’m writing it because it warms my heart completely to tell you once more. It has been terribly long since I last wrote to you—almost two years—but I know you’ll forgive me, because you know how I am: stubborn and realistic; and I thought there was no sense in writing. But now, my dear wife, I know it is right to do what I’ve delayed, and yet what I so often did in the past. I want to tell you that I love you. I want to love you. I will always love you. I find it hard to understand what it means, in my mind, to love someone who is dead—but I still want to comfort you and take care of you—and I want you to love me and take care of me. I wish I had problems to talk over with you—I wish we could make little plans together. I had never thought, until now, that perhaps we still could. What shall we do? We had begun learning to make clothes together—or to study Chinese—or to buy a movie projector. Can I do none of this now? No. I am alone without you, and you were “the woman of ideas,” the spark behind all our crazy adventures. When you were ill, you worried about not being able to give me something you wanted, something you thought I needed. You had no need to worry. As I told you then, there was no real lack, because I loved you in so many ways and so very deeply. And today, it is even truer: you cannot give me anything anymore, and yet I love you so much that you prevent me from loving anyone else—but I want you to be the one in that place. You, dead, are still so much better than anyone alive. I know you would want to assure me that I’m being foolish, and that you want me to be fully happy, that you don’t want to stand in the way. You must be surprised that I don’t even have a girlfriend (except you, my love) after two years. But you can’t help it, my darling, and neither can I. I don’t understand: I’ve met many girls, very nice ones too, and I don’t want to remain alone—but after two or three meetings, they all turn to ashes. Only you remain for me. You alone are real. My beloved wife, I adore you. I love my wife. My wife is dead. Rich. P.S. Forgive me for not sending this letter—but I don’t know your new address. --- “Love is the most powerful force in the Universe. It is a profound entanglement between two souls, binding them forever, eternally. Nothing can break the bonds of the heart—not even death. In truth, Love is the only force capable of transcending death and giving meaning to existence.”