Bless you a thousand times! You are a lovely correspondent.

You don't write your letters with your pen, or with your tongue, you write them with your heart.

Hearts are different; some, I suppose, are born sound and musical, others are born uncertain and unmusical, and are at best a mere tinkling cymbal.
Yours, I have no doubt, has blessed and cheered and delighted the soul of the mother who bore you from the very first opening of your eyes upon the world, and that dear heart has gone on with that cheering influence from that time to the present, and it will go on cheering everybody around you who have loved you, and it will go on cheering among the rest your loving brother Bramwell and your devoted General right away to the end; nay, will go on endlessly, for there is to be no conclusion to our affection.
"I want it to be so.

I want it to be my own experience.

Love, to be a blessing, must be ambitious, boundless, and eternal.