In vain do I stretch out my arms towards her when I awaken in the morning from my troubled dream. In vain I seek her at night in my bed, when an innocent dream has happily deceived me, and I thought that I was sitting near her in the fields, holding her hand and covering it with countless kisses. And when I feel for her in the half confusion of sleep, and awaken, tears flow from my oppressed heart; and bereft of all comfort, I weep over my future woes.
Goethe, The Sorrows of Young Werther, August 21, Book I
