– Napoleon Bonaparte (1769—1821), from a letter to Joséphine de Beauharnais (1763—1814), dated November, 1796 (pbs.org)
“Let me kiss you on the mouth – let me kiss your neck – behind the eyes – let me kiss each eye – & mouth again. Let me kiss the abdomen – each breast – each side of your sweetest of all behinds… & lie there – And then let [me] hold you firmly & let happen what will. I think were you here now I’d even risk all – just without anything. Madness I know – But I am mad with You penetrating every fiber of me – every pulse
beat is you – And you ought to know it. And you don’t – And you don’t believe it now – That’s what I have forfeited. —
That’s the cross I bear – which robs me of all initiative. – Has killed the dream.”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated July 6, 1929, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“There is so much that moves me today that I don’t know how I’ll ever end this letter. And I long for you so terribly!”
– Eberhard Arnold (1883—1935), from a letter to Emmy von Hollander (1884—1980), Breslau, dated April 28, 1907, in: “Love letters. Eberhard Arnold and Emmy von Hollander”
“Your ghost everywhere – & I lonely beyond words…”
– 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″
“O my love, you whom I cherish above all things, white narcissus in an unmown field…”
– Oscar Wilde (1854—1900), from a letter to Lord Alfred Douglas (1870—1945), Courtfield Gardens, Kensington, dated May 20, 1895, in: “Oscar Wilde: A Life In Letters” by Merlin Holland
“I have never been able to ‘do’ anything; I can only let things take their course and if need be, suffer. This is where my strength lies, and it is great strength indeed. But for myself, not for others.”
– Etty Hillesum (1914—1943), from a letter to Maria, from a Westerbork transit camp for Jews, Westerbork, dated July 10, 1943, in: “An Interrupted Life: Diaries and Letters 1941—43. And Letters from Westerbork”, translated from the Dutch by Arnold J. Pomerans
“When I’m with you, nothing seems terrible to me, not even leaving you. But away from you, the slightest fear is unbearable. I love you passionately – I’m empty and miserable without you.”
– Simone de Beauvoir (1908—1986), from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre (1905—1980), Albertville, dated 27 July 1938, in: “Letters to Sartre”, translated by Quintin Hoare
“I insist on embracing you today: I do it affectionately, since you love me so well.”
– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to George Sand (1804—1876), dated December 22, 1872, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie
“… your letters, so airy, so intelligent and full of life, in a moment of so many difficulties and so much sadness… They were the only air I could breathe! All the rest, suffocation!”
– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated August 20, 1926, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani
“For a long time I’ve been wanting to write to you in the evening after one of those outings with friends […]. I wanted to bring you my conqueror’s joy and lay it at your feet, as they did in the Age of the Sun King. And then, tired out by all the shouting, I always simply went to bed. Today I’m doing it to feel the pleasure you don’t yet know, of turning abruptly from friendship to love, from strength to tenderness. I am mastering my love for you… This happens much more often than I admit to you, but seldom when I’m writing to you. Try to understand me: I love you while paying attention to external things. At Toulouse I simply loved you. Tonight I love you on a spring evening. I love you with the window open. You are mine, and things are mine, and my love alters the things around me and the things around me alter my love.”
– Jean-Paul Sartre (1905—1980), from a letter to Simone de Beauvoir (1908—1986), in: “Witness to My Life: The Letters Of Jean-Paul Sartre to Simone De Beayvoir, 1926—1939”
“Death, especially the most completely felt and experienced death, has never remained an obstacle to life for a surviving individual, because its innermost essence is not contrary to us (as one may occasionally suspect), but it is more knowing about life than we are in our most vital moments. I always think that such a great weight, with its tremendous pressure, somehow has the task of forcing us into a deeper, more intimate layer of life so that we may grow out of it all the more vibrant and fertile.”
– Rainer Maria Rilke (1875—1926), from a letter to Adelheid von der Marwitz, dated September 11, 1919, in: “The Dark Interval. Rainer Maria Rilke. Letters on Loss, Grief and Transformation”, translated from the German by Ulrich Baer
“Tell me you haven’t forgotten me.
You couldn’t.
I always have you with me.”
– 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
“… you, so close beside me, so sensitive that one could drown in your sensitivity.”
– Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), from a letter to Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), Moscow, dated July 23, 1910, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin
“Love is a want of my heart. I have examined myself lately with more care than formerly, and find, that to deaden is not to calm the mind – Aiming at tranquillity, I have almost destroyed all the energy of my soul – almost rooted out what renders it estimable – Yes, I have damped that enthusiasm of character, which converts the grossest materials into a fuel, that imperceptibly feeds hopes, which aspire above common enjoyment.”
– Mary Wollstonecraft (1759—1797), from a letter to Gilbert Imlay (1754—1828), Sweden, dated July 3, 1795, in: “The Love Letters of Mary Wollstonecraft to Gilbert Imlay”
“I stretch out my hands towards you. Oh! may I live to touch your hair and your hands. I think that your love will watch over my life. If I should die, I want you to live a gentle peaceful existence somewhere, with flowers, pictures, books, and lots of work.”
– Oscar Wilde (1854—1900), from a letter to Lord Alfred Douglas (1870—1945), HM Prison, Hollowa, dated Monday Evening, April 29, 1895, in: “Oscar Wilde: A Life In Letters” by Merlin Holland
“You ought to be here – Or I there – Ever in each other’s arms – Floating into space – No one to disturb – Just kisses & love – & great peace – Even when no kisses – kisses take place – Two Souls have become One – Flesh does not touch – ”
– Alfred