Quotes from my Blog. Letters

– 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

“How long a time it is since I saw your good firm writing! How long it is since we

have talked together! What a pity that we should live so far from each other! I need you very much.”

– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to George Sand (1804—1876), Croisset, dated 1870, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie

“Darling,

Tell me one thing. I want it answered so much that I can hardly bear to think of a whole week passing before you can reply?

Could you love me so much that if the whole world turned against us,& we were obliged to live alone, given up by society you could live entirely in me?

Could I ever become all the world to you?”

– John Miller (1819—1895), from a letter to Sally Campbell Preston McDowell (1821—1895), dated February 21, 1855, in: “If You Love That Lady Don’t Marry Her: The Courtship Letters of Sally Mcdowell and John Miller, 1854—1856″

“I have missed very much hearing from you. I am so accustomed to getting letters from you when you are away that when I get none I feel as if you had dropped down into a hole from which you could not throw me up any letters.”

– Elsie Rosaline Masson (1890—1935), from a letter to Bronislaw Malinowski (1884—1942), dated August 7, 1935, in: “The Story of a Marriage. The Letters of Bronislaw Malinowski and Elsie Masson”

“Write me I am so lonesome.”

– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), Atlantic City, N. J., dated February, 1926, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”

“I don’t write to you, I am quite troubled in the depths of my soul. But that will pass, I hope…”

– George Sand (1804—1876), from a letter to Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), at Nohant, dated September 6, 1871, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie

“I have the unfortunate ability to read the very depths of hearts.”

– Germaine de Staël (1766—1817), from a letter to Benjamin Constant (1767—1830), Coppet, dated April 17, I815, in: “Madame de Staël. Selected correspondence”, translated from the French by Kathleen Jameson-Cemper

“Don’t be upset by all of this, regardless. Better days are coming. But it is a sad return on so much work, deprivation, and suffering. Alas, life is miserable!”

– Arthur Rimbaud (1854—1891), from a letter to his Mother, Marie Catherine, Aden, dated April 30, 1891, in: “I Promise to be Good. The Letters of Arthur Rimbaud”, translated from the French by Watt Mason

“You speak of my desire to gratify all of your wishes. It is the greatest pleasure I have to think that I can do so, but you must remember how little I have done, and how you almost denied me the pleasure of doing even that little, and how chary you have been in permitting it.”

– Nathaniel Dawson (1829—1895), from a letter to Elodie Todd (1840—1877), Winchester, Virginia, dated July 11, 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

“Dearest Boy:

Oh! I wish I could see you tonight. I am lonely. Oh! So lonesome to see you. You & I are most always apart. May be that is the way of the world. It is best to only see a little of those we love best!”

– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), Atlantic City, N. J., dated February, 1926, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”

“Neither the heart nor the mind can embrace what is happening. One thrusts away

the days as if into an already packed suitcase, but they don’t fit in.”

– Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), from a letter to Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), Leningrad, dated July 12, 1941, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin

“At last I come to tell you that I am yours. And I pray God to bless us not only in each other but to each other, and to grant us His favor and protection in the important step we are about to take.”

– Sally Campbell Preston McDowell (1821—1895), from a letter to John Miller (1819—1895), dated April 30, 1855, in: “If You Love That Lady Don’t Marry Her: The Courtship Letters of Sally Mcdowell and John Miller, 1854—1856″

“Today, at last, your letter arrived and I’m a human being again, after days of worry and anxiety. I don’t know why but this time I was particularly worried about you.”

– Marie Bader (1886—1942), from a letter to Ernst Löwy (1880—1943), Prague, dated January 14, 1942, in: “Life and Love in Nazi Prague. Letters from an Occupied City. Marie Bader”, translated by Kate Ottevange

“Why is woman so jealous of expressing her feelings, so guarded in telling the promptings of her heart? If it were treason to love you, I could be found guilty from any one of my letters for I cannot conceal the fact. Probably you do not like my style of writing, but I cannot help it & even as my wife I would love & write to you as passionately.”

– Nathaniel Dawson (1829—1895), from a letter to Elodie Todd (1840—1877), Camp near Lynchburg, dated May 9, 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 love you the way I love certain memories.”

– Gabriela Mistral (1889—1957), from a letter to Doris Dana (1920—2006), dated November 28, 1949, in: “Gabriela Mistral’s Letters to Doris Dana”, translated by Velma Garcia-Gorena

“… I no longer have any personal interest of my own; all my interests

are identical with yours, because my present ambition – and the only purpose for which I drag on this horrible existence (horrible because far from you) – is this: to strive with all my forces (and they are still many!) to make you rich and in control of your destiny, in Art as much as in life.”

– 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

“I get out very little and am nearly crazy being so lonely, sometimes.”

– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), dated February 3, 1938, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”

“I don’t have qualities, only fragilities. But sometimes… sometimes I have hope.”

– Clarice Lispector, from a letter to Olga Borelli, dated December 11, 1970, in: “Why This World. A Biography of Clarice Lispector” by Benjamin Moser

“Writing to you is never a burden to me, as evening draws in I feel I must have my chat with you.”

– Elsie Rosaline Masson (1890—1935), from a letter to Bronislaw Malinowski (1884—1942), dated June 4, 1935, in: “The Story of a Marriage. The Letters of Bronislaw Malinowski and Elsie Masson”

“It’s midnight, everyone’s asleep, my radio is softly playing, cigarette’s burning, so I’m all set to write. I sort of like the idea of writing when it’s late because then I know exactly what you’re doing and I can visualize you very vividly. This may sound crazy but do you curl up when you sleep? Hug the pillow, or what? I seem to always write this time of night so since I know that you’re sleeping I want my vision to be as realistic as possible.”

– Mike Royko (1932—1997), from a letter to Carol Joyce Duckman (1934—1979), postmarked April 28, 1954, in “Royko in Love: Mike’s Letters to Carol”, by Mike Royko and David Royko

“I read with ecstasy your dear words about your loving me. You write: ‘Love me.’ But don’t I love you? It’s just that expressing myself in words sickens me, but you could see a lot for yourself, but it’s too bad that you are unable to see. […] And my ecstasy and delight are inexhaustible. […] So as to finish this tirade, I swear that I am dying to kiss every toe on your foot, and I’ll achieve my goal, you’ll see. You write: ‘But what if someone reads our letters?’ Let them, of course; let them be envious.”

– Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821—1881), from a letter to his wife, Anna Dostoevskaya (1846—1918), dated August 28, 1879

“Good Morning Faraway Nearest One:

It’s just six.”

– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated September 23, 1923, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“It is not only your mind that attaches me to you, it is above all your excellent heart.”

– Joseph Fouche (1759—1820), from a letter to Germaine de Staël (1766—1817), Paris, dated March 24, 1815, in “Madame de Staël. Selected correspondence”, translated by Kathleen Jameson-Cemper

“Today I was hoping for news from you again; I thought there would be some but nothing came. Well, I hope perhaps on Monday. I am alone and am just very full of yearning for you.”

– Marie Bader (1886—1942), from a letter to Ernst Löwy (1880—1943), Karlín, dated Saturday evening, August 2, 1941, in: “Life and Love in Nazi Prague. Letters from an Occupied City. Marie Bader”, translated by Kate Ottevange

“Well you must have dreamt, dreamt at least, that you were my wife, when I dreamt, perhaps the same day, but also only dreamt, that you were standing close to me in some room, in a salon, so

close that I was unutterably hot; then I didn’t know, did I embrace you, or did I only want to embrace you? But I always want to dream about you. It’s said one can’t help one’s dreams, whatever they are. But it was so lifelike that I wished that the beautiful, intoxicating dream wouldn’t stop. And afterwards during the day? One sobers up! Do remember me a little; and I’ll imagine your dreams for myself. My wife! See, how easily it comes! The dear Lord cares for us, and is good! What can’t be in any other way he gives at least as a dream.”

– Leos Janacek (1854—1928), from a letter to Kamila Stosslova (1891—1935), dated July 17, 1924, in: “Intimate Letters: Leoš Janáček to Kamila Janáček”, translated by John Tyrrell

“We are alike in that we are really free in our feelings & we say what we feel – And that seems to be rare – I wonder why – Is it?”

– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), New York City, dated January 22, 1918, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“I’d want just a single answer, just one wish on earth, just a single desire, just a single

certainty: will we belong to each other completely?”

– 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 have become fairly calm again but for a few days last week I was in an awful state physically. I felt utterly disorientated, weary of life, miserable. I truly believed this could not go on. Then your letter arrived and everything was good, as if all my troubles were blown away.”

– Marie Bader (1886—1942), from a letter to Ernst Löwy (1880—1943), Karlín, dated October 28, 1941, in: “Life and Love in Nazi Prague. Letters from an Occupied City. Marie Bader”, translated by Kate Ottevange

“I wonder what you are to me – it’s like father, mother, brother, sister, best man and woman friend, all mixed up in one – I love you greatly”

– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1886), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), Canyon, Texas, dated December 14, 1917, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“I think of you as my wife, dear to me as you ever will be, and happy will be the home when you are given to my care and love.”

– Nathaniel Dawson (1829—1895), from a letter to Elodie Todd (1840—1877), Manassas Junction, dated August 1, 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

“ – My mind full of you & me. – Our togetherness. – Its beginning – its state now.”

– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), New York City, dated June 8, 1929, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“Each one of us carries within himself his necropolis.”

– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to George Sand (1804—1876), dated November 11, 1866, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie

“I no longer write to you to tell you the things that I constantly think about you since I’m well aware that they must leave you cold. But tributes to which you are little less indifferent I hasten to bring to your attanetion.”

– Marcel Proust (1871—1922), from a letter to Anna de Noailles (1876—1933), dated Saturday evening, March 12, 1904, in: “Selected Letters, Vol. 2: 1904—1909”, translated from the French by Terence Kilmartin

“I pray for you nightly”

– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), dated June 7, 1935, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”

“You are as fine as the white night last night – Yes, your soul is that fine – The world is a hard place for fine souls – ”

– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated September 23, 1923, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“Your letter has deeply moved me. To the world I seem, by intention on my part, a dilettante and dandy merely – it is not wise to show one’s heart to the world – and as seriousness of manner is the disguise of the fool, folly in its exquisite modes of triviality and indifference and lack of care is the robe of the wise man. In so vulgar an age as this we all need masks.”

– Oscar Wilde (1854—1900), from a letter to Philip Houghton, dated? Late February, 1894, in: “Oscar Wilde: A Life In Letters”

“Above all I love you the way you love me. It is noble, ancient, God-like. I bless you whenever I think of you.”

– Henry Miller (1891—1980), from a letter to Brenda Venus (born 1947), dated 1978, in: “Dear, Dear Brenda: The Love Letters of Henry Miller to Brenda Venus”

“I had a dream about you last night that when I woke up I couldn’t even believe it, that I could dream I was your wife what do you say to it. Such silly things where do we get them from?”

– Kamila Stosslova (1891—1935), from a letter to Leos Janacek (1854—1928), dated July 25, 1924, in: “Intimate Letters: Leoš Janáček to Kamila Janáček”, translated by John Tyrrell

“You know, I can’t really describe the way I feel when I receive and read one of your letters. All the words I know are inadequate. I just feel that everything else is petty and unimportant. Nothing that anyone has done has ever affected me the way that you do.”

– Mike Royko (1932—1997), from a letter to Carol Joyce Duckman (1934—1979), postmarked April 28, 1954, in: “Royko in Love: Mike’s Letters to Carol” by Mike Royko and David Royko

“… Dear one, I do love you. It is such a real and stable thing, and all my memories of you are precious and always will be. As you said once, we make no vows but I do ask one thing of you – be absolutely frank in anything regarding you and me.”

– Elsie Rosaline Masson (1890—1935), from a letter to Bronislaw Malinowski (1884—1942), Melbourne Hospital, dated Sunday, October 21, 1917, 9.30 p.m., in: “The Story of a Marriage. The Letters of Bronislaw Malinowski and Elsie Masson”

“I have been able to say to you many things with my pen, that I could never have uttered with my tongue.”

– Sally Campbell Preston McDowell (1821—1895), from a letter to John Miller (1819—1895), Colalto, dated January 25, 1855, in: “If You Love That Lady Don’t Marry Her: The Courtship Letters of Sally Mcdowell and John Miller, 1854—1856″

“If we were together, you’d feel how strong it is – you’re so sweet when you’re melancholy. I love your sad tenderness – when I’ve hurt you – That’s one of the reasons I could never be sorry for our quarrels – and they bothered you so – Those dear, dear little fusses, when I always tried so hard to make you kiss and forget.”

– Francis Scott Fitzgerald (1896—1940), from a letter to Zelda Fitzgerald (1900—1948), Montgomery, Alabama, dated March, 1919, in: “Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda. The Love Letters of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald”

“I am waiting, I am waiting, I am waiting. Oh, one word from you would give life back to me! If you only knew how my soul is!”

– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), April 6, 1929, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani

“I am with you all day and all night, and at every instant, my poor dear friend. I am thinking of all the sorrow that you are in the midst of. I would like to be near you. The misfortune of being tied here distresses me. I would like a word so as to know if you have the courage that you need… I can only open a maternal heart to you which will replace nothing, but which is suffering with yours, and very keenly in each one of your troubles.”

– George Sand (1804—1876), from a letter to Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), Croissset, dated April 9, 1872, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie

“No matter how much I write I still can’t express to you, even remotely, how much I love you nor how anxious I am to be with you. You will just have to deduce it from the fact that I spend at least two hours a day writing. Quantity is not as good as quality – but I hope it is worth a little bit. If the length of my letters does as much as hint to you the love and desire that prompts it, then they have been well worth the effort. I love you.”

– Captain Hunnicutt, from a letter to Virginia Dickerson, dated July 3, 1944, in: “Dearest Virginia. Love Letters from a Cavalry Officer in the South Pacific”, edited by Gayle Hunnicutt

“And why do you fear me? Would I ever do anything to you? I’d surely never do anything bad. And what would I do to you? I know, I know! I long for it unutterably! Is that why you’re frightened?”

– Leos Janacek (1854—1928), from a letter to Kamila Stosslova (1891—1935), dated May 2, 1927, in: “Intimate Letters: Leoš Janáček to Kamila Janáček”, translated by John Tyrrell

“You write with your heart’s blood, I with ink”

– Henry Miller (1891—1980), from a letter to Brenda Venus (born 1947), dated August 1, 1978, in: “Dear, Dear Brenda: The Love Letters of Henry Miller to Brenda Venus”

“You know you are an awful lot to me – I have to laugh when I say it – It sounds so funny to say it – As if you didn’t know – And still something makes me say it in such a raw way this morning”

– 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″

“… and don’t think negative thoughts about me. I’m begging you”

– Gabriela Mistral (1889—1957), from a letter to Doris Dana (1920—2006), dated November 8, 1949, in: “Gabriela Mistral’s Letters to Doris Dana”, translated by Velma Garcia-Gorena

“I long for you more than for the sun; in fact I’d like a cloud in which we’d see only one another and not the others.”

– 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

“Listen, tell me: should we not live together anymore?

Be brave. Write immediately.

I can’t stay here much longer.

Listen to your heart.

Now, tell me if I should come join you.

My life is yours.”

– Arthur Rimbaud (1854—1891), from a letter to his Paul Verlaine (1844—1896), dated July 4, 1873, in: “I Promise to be Good. The Letters of Arthur Rimbaud”, translated from the French by Watt Mason

“I wish you were in front of me – would hold me close just a minute before I go on to the things I must do – ”

– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), Canyon, Texas, dated July 2, 1917, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“… now and again, when I re-read my letters, I am a little embarrassed because they talk of almost nothing of substance and I wonder what this serious man will think of me, the whole letter being such a lot of nonsense. Then I shake my head and laugh at myself.”

– Marie Bader (1886—1942), from a letter to Ernst Löwy (1880—1943), Karlín, dated Saturday, December 14, 1940, in: “Life and Love in Nazi Prague. Letters from an Occupied City. Marie Bader”, translated by Kate Ottevange

“I am like a fly without a head; I don’t know where to turn, nor what to do; hours go by, while I’m sitting here at the desk, thinking of so many things… if anybody, in hiding, were here spying on me, he’d think I was doped.”

– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated February 28, 1930, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani

“And good-night, dear friend of my heart… Why aren’t you here? It is horrid not to live next door to those one loves.

– George Sand (1804—1876), from a letter to Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), Nohant, dated 1867, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie

“Do you know what I want – when I want? Darkness, light, transfiguration. The most remote headland of another’s soul – and my own. Words that one will never hear or speak. The improbable. The miraculous. A miracle.

You will get (for in the end you will surely get me) a strange, sad, dreaming, singing little monster struggling to escape from your hand.”

– Marina Tsvetaeva (1892—1941), from a letter to Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), in: “Letters. Summer 1926. Boris Pasternak. Marina Tsvetaeva, Rainer Maria Rilke”, translated from the Russian by Margaret Wettlin, Walter Arndt, and Jamey Gambrell

“Sometimes I could just undress you and lick you from head to toe. In my sleep I run my hands over the curves in your physique – what a thrill! Like being proficient in runs on the piano.”

– Henry Miller (1891—1980), from a letter to Brenda Venus (born 1947), dated October 7, 1976, in: “Dear, Dear Brenda: The Love Letters of Henry Miller to Brenda Venus”

“I write you, me beloved one, very often, and you write very little. You are wicked and naughty, very naughty, as much as you are fickle.”

– Napoleon Bonaparte (1769—1821), from a letter to Joséphine de Beauharnais (1763—1814), Verona, dated July 17, 1796 (pbs.org)

“I’m just blessed that I’ve confessed my love to you, that I’ve experienced confessing love to someone. This never happened before… And in life that mutual feeling has to fight its way through! Believe me, there’d be no need for life if it couldn’t bubble over with that intoxication. It’s the height of existence; it’s like a flower which waits for the bee to bring the pollen.

The flower must surely grieve when it finishes flowering in the cold, in the frost.”

– Leos Janacek (1854—1928), from a letter to Kamila Stosslova (1891—1935), dated May 2, 1927, in: “Intimate Letters: Leoš Janáček to Kamila Janáček”, translated by John Tyrrell

“If I only could make you realise how very badly I miss you and how empty everything is for me without you. At times you feel that the difficulties of our movements and our existence weigh on me, and at times I do not do things easily or gracefully. But when you are not there I realise how much I love doing things for you and how nothing is really the matter as long as we share things.”

– Bronislaw Malinowski (1884—1942), from a letter to Elsie Rosaline Masson (1890—1935), dated Monday October 3, 1933, in: “The Story of a Marriage. The Letters of Bronislaw Malinowski and Elsie Masson”

“I only wished to send you one more kiss before I went to sleep, to tell you that I love you… So, a kiss, a quick one, you know what kind, and one more, and oh again still more, and still more under your chin, in that spot I love on your very soft skin, and on your chest, where I place my heart.”

– 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

“When I am alone and have had no news from you for quite a while, then I get despondent.”

– Marie Bader (1886—1942), from a letter to Ernst Löwy (1880—1943), Karlín, dated December 24, 1941, in: “Life and Love in Nazi Prague. Letters from an Occupied City. Marie Bader”, translated by Kate Ottevange

“ – Maybe it’s stupid to be in love. – To have a heart. All weakness. All meaningless. To live & be – without thought of other – maybe that’s the way.”

– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated July 5, 1929, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“I’ll send you, one of these days, a bunch of poems I composed during these lost evenings. They are written for you alone and not for other readers – not because there is anything bad, but because they are only for you.”

– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated April 8, 1929, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani

“This paper feels too little for me but I’m going to try to write to you anyway – I guess we often do things in spite of difficulties —.”

– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1886), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), Charlottesville, Virginia, dated August 6, 1916, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“What do I get out of it when they’re always telling me that I appear young? They should rather ask for whom my heart aches and give me a cure. I’d drink it by the spoonful not only three times daily but all the time. You don’t understand this, and that’s good.”

– Leos Janacek (1854—1928), from a letter to Kamila Stosslova (1891—1935), dated July 4, 1924, in: “Intimate Letters: Leoš Janáček to Kamila Janáček”, translated by John Tyrrell

“My love,

I’m writing this in bed. Yesterday, I couldn’t have managed it but just slept, with gargling as my sole distraction. I had a very sore throat and even some temperature… If I weren’t so uncomfortably positioned for writing, I’d spend pages telling you how happy I am and how much I love you. But I take comfort from the fact that you felt it clearly yourself, didn’t you, little man? Here are a hundred kisses, each carrying the same message.”

– Simone de Beauvoir (1908—1986), from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre (1905—1980), dated January 6, 1930, in: “Letters to Sartre”, translated from the French by Quintin Hoare

“That is all, my dear old friend, it is not my fault, I embrace you with all my heart. For the moment that is the only thing that is functioning. My brain is too stupefied.”

– George Sand (1804—1876), from a letter to Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), dated March 17, 1872, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie

“Do you think poetry was ever generally understood – or can be? Is the business of it to tell people what they know already, as they know it, and so precisely that they shall be able to cry out – “here you should supply this – that, you eventually pass over, and I will help you from my own stock?” It is all teaching, on the contrary, and the people hate to be taught…

A poet’s affair is with God, to whom he is accountable, and to whom is his reward: look elsewhere and you find misery enough.”

– Robert Browning (1812—1889), from a letter to John Ruskin (1819—1900), Paris, dated December 10, 1855, in: “The Life and Work of John Ruskin” by William Gershom Collingwood

“… do write, in the name of all that is holy, or I shall be lonesome. It’s as if I were in jail and my spirits are very low.”

– Anton Chekhov (1860—1904), from a letter to his future wife, Olga Knipper (1868—1959), Yalta, dated October 30, 1899, in: “The Selected Letters of Anton Chekhov”, translated from the Russian by Sidonie Lederer

“Your photo, lit up by the midday sun, is smiling at me. I take your head in my hands and kiss you with deepest love and say farewell, keep well, stay confident, as I am.”

– Marie Bader (1886—1942), from a letter to Ernst Löwy (1880—1943), Karlín, dated November 3, 1941, in: “Life and Love in Nazi Prague. Letters from an Occupied City. Marie Bader”, translated by Kate Ottevange

“We must have someone who is kind above all, and perfectly honest.”

– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to George Sand (1804—1876), dated March, 1872, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie

“This is how it is with me: I write exactly as if I were talking to you, without thinking about what I want to write, a letter like that is meant to replace a conversation or a cosy little chat.”

– Marie Bader (1886—1942), from a letter to Ernst Löwy (1880—1943), Karlín, dated December 31, 1940, in: “Life and Love in Nazi Prague. Letters from an Occupied City. Marie Bader”, translated by Kate Ottevange

“This book must be possessed rather than read, as a man does not read a woman but possesses her.”

– Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), from a letter to Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), Leningrad, dated October 9, 1948, referring to the Pasternak’s novel “Doctor Zhivago”, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin

“God bless you. It is very lonesome without You. I embrace you firmly and gently, as I love you.”