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– Henry Miller (1891—1980), from a letter to Brenda Venus (born 1947), dated August 2, 1978, in: “Dear, Dear Brenda: The Love Letters of Henry Miller to Brenda Venus”
“I don’t need to have you write me about Shakespeare! Write me about yourself.”
– Boris Pasternak (1890—1960),from a letter to Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), Moscow, dated January 22, 1945, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin
“Time itself does not ‘console,’ as people say superficially; at best it assigns things to their proper place and creates an order.”
– Rainer Maria Rilke (1875- 1926), from a letter to Countess Margot Sizzo-Noris-Crouy, dated January 6, 1923, in: “The Dark Interval. Rainer Maria Rilke. Letters on Loss, Grief and Transformation”, translated by Ulrich Baer
“I am petrified to be left alone with myself. All the beasts of my cage wake up to tear me to pieces. And I do not know how to placate them.”
– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated July 5, 1928, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani
“We must believe that we love one another a great deal, for we both had the same thought at the same time.”
– George Sand (1804—1876), from a letter to Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), Nohant, dated February 8, 1867, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie
“…you are enjoying the rare fortune of being passionately loved…”
– Germaine de Staël (1766—1817), quoting Thecla, in a letter to O’Donnel, Coppet, dated 6 August, at midnight, 1808, in “Madame de Staël. Selected correspondence”, translated from the French by Kathleen Jameson-Cemper
“I was the more convinced that this girl would yield to me readily because I was so well aware of her knowledge and her love of literary studies. This would mean that, even when we were parted, the exchange of letters could bring us together, and since it is often possible to write more boldly than one can speak, we could always converse delightfully with one another.”
– Pierre Abelard (1079—1142), from a letter to a friend. Letter 1: A Story of Calamities, in: “The Letters of Heloise and Abelard: A Translation of Their Collected Correspondence and Related Writings”
“Once more Good Night – I would like to come with the wind & take a peep of you when you are sound asleep – & slip away again with the wind – & you would never know. – ”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, August 26, 1926, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“My love, I never felt our love more strongly than that evening at Les Vikings, where you gazed at me so tenderly I felt like weeping.”
– Simone de Beauvoir (1908—1986), from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre (1905—1980), dated Tuesday, January 6, 1930, in “Letters to Sartre”, translated from the French by Quintin Hoare
“I would like to offer you only joy, to surround you with a continuous and warm felicity in exchange for all that you’ve given me in the prodigality of your love. I am afraid of being cold, selfish, and yet God only knows what is churning in me at this hour.”
– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to Louise Colet (1810—1876), in: “Rage and fire: a life of Louise Colet, pioneer feminist, literary star, Flaubert’s muse” by Francine du Plessix Gray
“You are not like me! You are full of compassion. There are days when I choke with wrath, I would like to drown my contemporaries in latrines, or at least deluge their cockscombs with torrents of abuse, cataracts of invectives. Why? I wonder myself.”
– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to George Sand (1804—1876), dated November 14, 1871, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie
“Good Night – I do miss you – You certainly know that – don’t you feel it way down in the root of you – & I know you miss me. – Yes, I know it.”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated August 26, 1926, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“For some reason this letter is not turning out right, and I sense (and such feelings never deceive) that you are reading it with coldness and alienation.”
– Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), from a letter to Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), Chistopol, July 18, 1942, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin
“Your letter – tiny – tiny handwriting – lovely – purity itself – but so heartbreakingly sad.”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), New York City, dated February 11, 1918, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“I beg your pardon for impressing the idea that I was hurt at any remark of yours. You must excuse me for having been so unfortunate. You have never irritated me, and I never expect you to do anything that will, as I know how sweet your temper is and how much you love me.”
– Nathaniel Dawson (1829—1895), from a letter to Elodie Todd (1840—1877), Manassas Junction, dated September 2, 1861, in: “Practical Strangers. The Courtship Correspondence of Nathaniel Dawson and Elodie Todd, Sister of Mary Todd Lincoln”, edited by Stephen Berry and Angela Esco Elder
“I have not been entirely well for a week. I took a cold, I dont know how, which has singularly for me taken the form of a cough, that annoys me a little. Dont make yourself uneasy about me. If it really becomes anything serious I shall write to you everyday – if not, then my not writing everyday will be satisfactory proof so far that I am well.”
– Sally Campbell Preston McDowell (1821—1895), from a letter to John Miller (1819—1895), dated Tuesday, May 2, 1855, in: “If You Love That Lady Don’t Marry Her: The Courtship Letters of Sally Mcdowell and John Miller, 1854—1856″
“8:30 p.m. Eyes or no eyes – I don’t want to go to bed without dropping you a few lines.”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated August 26, 1926, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“I wonder if I shall love you as much as face to face as I do in this ‘letter-garb’.”
– Sally Campbell Preston McDowell (1821—1895), from a letter to John Miller (1819—1895), dated July 12, 1855, in: “If You Love That Lady Don’t Marry Her: The Courtship Letters of Sally Mcdowell and John Miller, 1854—1856″
“From me to you nothing should flow. Fly, yes!”
– Marina Tsvetaeva (1892—1941), from a letter to Rainer Maria Rilke (1875—1926), in: “Letters. Summer 1926. Boris Pasternak. Marina Tsvetaeva, Rainer maria Rilke”, translated by Margaret Wettlin, Walter Arndt, Jamey Gambrell
“Darling,
I am just waiting for you to write. But I have heard nothing. Will you please write.”
– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), New York, N.Y., dated October 29, 1928, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”
“Little One… I try to imagine what you are doing – what is going on in the Room and I just know I can’t – One never can – All I know is that I have a great fondness for you and your understanding my having to do this makes me feel you are again very good to me – ”
– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), Madison, Wisconsin, dated July 22, 1928, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“I want your, your news, of you, about your days; I want to see you, to follow you, to feel myself near you!
I picture so many things, I hear your voice, I know every expression of your face, all your gestures and your movements, how you turn your eyes and how you glance as you talk to one person or another; l could tell you everything about yourself, every slightest motion of your soul, every deeply concealed fold of your thought, the whole “momentariness” of life that goes through you without the time to register even in yourself or to appear for one instant in your awareness. But you don’t tell me anything and I don’t know anything. I continue my imagining in emptiness: “will it be so?” or “will it be true?” But I don’t know where you have your breakfast, whether in the hotel or in the store or in some restaurant…
I am no longer able to see you, and you can hardly imagine how much I suffer because of it.”
– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated March 3, 1930, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani
“The writers of the dictionary are foolish enough to try to define love. It can’t be done. The way I feel defies all definition and explanation. When I say I love you, what I feel is, without you, there is nothing. Everything would be a meaningless void. I wish I knew a pretty poem or quotation to close with but I’m at a loss.”
– Mike Royko (1932—1997), from a letter to Carol Joyce Duckman (1934—1979), postmarked August 13, 1954, in: “Royko in Love: Mike’s Letters to Carol”, by Mike Royko and David Royko
“I am truly, without exception, the most ungrateful individual on the face of this earth, and fully deserve whatever torture the Inferno has in store. (I forget what particular form they take.) I’m extremely sorry I didn’t reply at once. I had an incredible amount of work & just cut out writing to anyone.”
– Iris Murdoch (1919—1999), from a letter to Frank Thompson (1918—1989), Oxford, dated early Summer, 1940, in: “Iris Murdoch, a Writer At War. Letters and Diaries, 1939—1945″
“Do you not believe that love like ours is immortal and will only be fully realized in a more beautiful existence adapted to the fine development of what here is called affection? If the world were peopled with inhabitants as nearly perfect as you are, omnipotence would not have inflicted death upon man as a means of refining him for a better existence.”
– Nathaniel Dawson (1829—1895), from a letter to Elodie Todd (1840—1877), Bolivar Heights, dated May 19, 1861, in: “Practical Strangers. The Courtship Correspondence of Nathaniel Dawson and Elodie Todd, Sister of Mary Todd Lincoln”, edited by Stephen Berry and Angela Esco Elder
“… how secret and dual my life is, how dispersed, how full of contradictions. I have been supremely happy in recent months, yet I despair when I see how impotent this inner state is to influence the outer state.”
– Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), from a letter to Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), Moscow, dated January 7, 1953, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin
“ – I’m all tired – all over – Tired in my head – all of me – The tired in my head is bad. – ”
– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), Canyon, Texas, dated January 14, 1918, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“… the true truth is this: you are my creature, my creature, my creature, in which all my spirit lives with the very power of my creation, so much so that it has become your thing and you are all my life. And the true truth is that I am not old, but young, the youngest of all, in my mind as well as in my heart; in my blood, in my muscles, in my nerves… I am you, as you desire me, and if you do not want me anymore, I – by myself – I am nothing anymore, and living is no longer possible for me.”
– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated March 1, 1930, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani
“My thoughts are with you, you’re fully around me, invisible, necessary as air. You’re mine…
You’re passionate, I too; two fires – what a flame that would be!.. And we should write in blood now!!”
– Leos Janacek (1854—1928), from a letter to Kamila Stosslova (1891—1935), dated May 5, 1927, in: “Intimate Letters: Leoš Janáček to Kamila Janáček”, translated by John Tyrrell
“I keep imagining our reunion and seeing each other again, and then I am as strong as iron, I stretch up tall and say ‘And yet, despite everything, the day of our reunion will come.’ A thousand sweet loving kisses.”
– Marie Bader (1886—1942), from a letter to Ernst Löwy (1880—1943), Karlín, dated January, 28, 1942, in: “Life and Love in Nazi Prague. Letters from an Occupied City. Marie Bader”, translated by Kate Ottevang
“I assure you that there is only one pleasure: learning what one does not know, and one happiness: loving the exceptions. Therefore I love you and I embrace you tenderly.”
– George Sand (1804—1876), from a letter to Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), Nohant, dated May 9, 1867, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie
“Do not forget me, for the love of God! Remember that, from far away, I’ll be always near you with my whole soul, in the wings, to delight in your voice, to follow each gesture, each movement, each expression of yours; to laugh if you laugh, to weep if you weep. No human creature has ever attached his own life to that of another creature as I did to yours. Always remember this.”
– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated September 27, 1929, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani
“You tell me… to write you every day, and if I do not I know you will reproach me. But the very idea that you want a letter every morning will prevent me from writing me! Let me love you in my manner… Don’t force me to do anything, and I shall do everything. Understand me and don’t reproach me. If I thought you were frivolous and stupid, like other women, I would inundate you with promises, oaths… but I prefer to express less, not more, than the true feelings of my heart. A thousand kisses, everywhere, everywhere…”
– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to Louise Colet (1810—1876), in: “Rage and fire: a life of Louise Colet, pioneer feminist, literary star, Flaubert’s muse” by Francine du Plessix Gray
“Absence lessens half hearted passions and increases great ones, as the wind puts out the candles and yet stirs up the fire.”
– Mike Royko (1932—1997), from a letter to Carol Joyce Duckman (1934—1979), postmarked April 22, 1954, in: “Royko in Love: Mike’s Letters to Carol”, by Mike Royko and David Royko
“We, who live here and now, are not for a moment satisfied in the time-world nor confined in it; we incessantly flow over and over to those who preceded us, to our origin, and to those who seemingly come after us.”
– Rainer Maria Rilke (1875—1926), from a letter to Witold Hulewicz, dated November 13, 1925, in: “The Dark Interval. Rainer Maria Rilke. Letters on Loss, Grief and Transformation”, translated from the German by Ulrich Baer
“I must smile – You’re sweet – all of you – outside & inside – touchable & untouchable – Above all that center about which no one knows – still does – A kiss! And more – Good Morning.”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated July 24, 1928, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“I behold you without clouds. I see you the way I imagined you”
– Germaine de Staël (1766—1817), from a letter to O’Donnel, Coppet, dated 12 July, 1808, in: “Madame de Staël. Selected correspondence”, translated from the French by Kathleen Jameson-Cemper
“I love you so very much that I can hardly contain myself. I love you.”
– Captain Hunnicutt, from a letter to Virginia Dickerson, dated July 13, 1944 – V-mail, in: “Dearest Virginia. Love Letters from a Cavalry Officer in the South Pacific”, edited by Gayle Hunnicutt
“Please don’t be angry with me for the fragmentary and belated letters I have sent of late. I cannot begin to describe how complicated and full of care my life is. Half of my ‘replies’ are rush ones, a series of meaningless and reiterated exclamations. Naturally they annoy you.”
– Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), from a letter to Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), Moscow, dated July 8, 1941, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin
“Dear, why don’t you love me. Why aren’t we more loving and chummy. Why don’t you ever confide in me.”
– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), New York, N.Y., dated October 29, 1928, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”
“ – It’s pouring now – And there is a fog – the streets are slushy & slippery – the gutters little rivers – pneumonia weather.”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), New York City, dated January 15, 1918, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“How good and kind you are!
And not well. That is the worst.”
– Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806—1861), from a letter to John Ruskin (1819—1900), dated December 24, 1855, in: “The Life and Work of John Ruskin” by William Gershom Collingwood
“It’s night again – and I want to write big but only have a few sheets of paper and may not go to town to get any for some time so I guess I had better write little.”
– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), Canyon, Texas, dated January 31, 1918, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“I want terribly to speak with you. My soul is in upheaval. I don’t want to see anyone but you, because you are the only one I can talk to.”
– Anton Chekhov (1860—1904), from a letter to Alexey Suvorin (1834—1912), Moscow, dated December 9, 1889, in: “The Selected Letters of Anton Chekhov”, translated from the Russian by Sidonie Lederer
“I feel like calling you right now… What would I say if I called? I don’t know. I guess I’d say I love you. Maybe I should be content with just writing it and wait ‘til we can be together before I say it. Maybe as you said, people can fall out of love but the only way I could stop loving you would be to stop breathing. I’ve felt this way for so long I don’t remember when it started. I felt this way when there was no hope and then I learned that there is always hope. How could I ever stop. Maybe if I knew I would so I could find out what it’s like to live and feel normal. Other people don’t seem to react the way I do… One fellow I work with… met a girl, their love was mutual and they live happily ever after. It sounds too easy but I guess it’s possible. I must have been one of the people who were born to live a complicated life. Come to think of it, you are too.”
– Mike Royko (1932—1997), from a letter to Carol Joyce Duckman (1934—1979), postmarked May 13, 1954, in: “Royko in Love: Mike’s Letters to Carol”, by Mike Royko and David Royko
“Miracles, after all, do happen! And it is a miracle that certain people waft such joyous grace on others.”
– Andrey Bely (1880—1934), from a letter to Marina Tsvetaeva (1892—1941), dated June, 1922, in: “No Love Without Poetry. The Memoirs of Marina Tsvetaeva’s Daughter” by Ariadna Efron, edited and translated from the Russian by Diane Nemec Ignashev
“One more milestone, one more year to your record. Dear One may you always know naught but joy and your path strewn with blessings, good wishes, love and peace. May you never know real sorrow, but instead so live that contentment will crown your whole life.”
– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), New York, N.Y., dated October 29, 1928, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”
“If I had not had you, I should most likely have turned into a block of wood; but now I am a human being again.”
– Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821—1881), from a letter to Maria Issayeva, dated June 4, 1855, in: “Fyodor Dostoevsky: Memoirs, Letters and Autobiographical Novels”, translated from the Russian by Ethel Colburn Mayne, John Middleton Murry, and S.S. Koteliansky
