“I love thee as thou art.” Softening, he says, “I know thou art forgetful. In the workshop, thou hast little sense of the time that has passed, and thou wilt oft mislay thy tools. But those are trifling things. Thy mind is always engaged with something, some question or inspiration thou wilt follow to its end, creating a trail of brilliant connections … the shame would be to stymy them. I let thee work in the way that suits thee, supporting thee with mine own strengths, with the space arranged so thou canst easily move from one idea to the next. If thou dost want this — truly want this, for thy sake and not only mine — thou must do it in a way that suits thee. Thou canst not simply hold it in thy head, expecting to remember. When thou wak’st at midnight, and I am abed, write what thou mean’st to do down. Leave it where thou wilt see it again — an thou must, tie the message to thy sword. Experiment, as thou dost in the workshop. Do not try to make yourself another man. Thou art the man I love, and all I desire is to see him flourish.”