"Thou queen of my heart ("Regina"),* enfolded in the deepest recesses of my heart, in the most vital fullness of my thought, equidistant from Heaven and Hell - unknown Divinity! Oh, can I really believe what the poets sing: that when man sees his beloved for the first time he believes that he has seen her long before, that all love, as all understanding, is memory, that love, also in the individual has its prophecies, its types, its myths, its Old Testament. Everywhere, in every girl’s face, I see features reminding me of your beauty, but it seems to me I would need all the girls in the world to distil, as it were, your beauty from theirs, that I would have to circumnavigate the world to find the continent I miss, yet which the deepest secret of my whole being polarically* Indicates; - and the next instant you are so close to me, so present, so powerfully investing my spirit that I feel myself to be transfigured, and feel it is good to be here.
Oh, Blind god of Love! You who see into our hidden recesses, will you reveal love to me? Shall I find here below what I seek, shall I experience the Conclusions* drawn from all my life’s eccentric premises,* am I to hold you in my arms - or do you order me to be on my way?*
Have you gone before me, my yearning, are you beckoning to me, transfigured, from another world? Oh, I will cast off everything to become light enough to follow you. "
The Diary of Soren Kierkegaard - PG 34 (#47- May 8, 1837)
His Love for Regine… god damn