– Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), from a letter to Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), Leningrad, dated May 27, 1953, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin
“Sorrow is better than joy – and even in mirth the heart is sad – and it is better to go to the house of mourning than to the house of feasts, for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.”
– Vincent Van Gogh (1853—1890), from a letter to his brother, Theo Van Gogh (1857—1891), dated October 31, 1876, in: “The Letters Of Vincent Van Gogh”, translated from the French and Dutch by Arnold Pomerans
“You wanted a written promise, my adorable friend, you thought I would hesitate to give it: here it is: I declare that you have all rights over me and that I have none over you. Dispose of my person and of my life. Order, defend, I will obey you in everything. I aspire to no other happiness than the one you wish to give me; I want to possess nothing, I want everything I have to come from your generosity. I would willingly agree to think no longer of my fame, so as to dedicate exclusively to your particular use whatever knowledge and talents I may have. I am proud of belonging to you and being your property.”
– A.W. Schlegel (1767—1845), from a letter to Germaine de Staël (1766—1817), Coppet, dated October 18, 1805, in: “Madame de Staël. Selected correspondence”, translated from the French by Kathleen Jameson-Cemper
“My most dearly beloved treasure, I haven’t had any further news from you for a week, but just now I have such a longing for you so I am writing.”
– Marie Bader (1886—1942), from a letter to Ernst Löwy (1880—1943), Karlín, dated March 26, 1942, in: “Life and Love in Nazi Prague. Letters from an Occupied City. Marie Bader”, translated by Kate Ottevang
“I think I am getting to the point where words are inadequate. I love you.”
– Captain Hunnicutt, from a letter to Virginia Dickerson, dated January 19, 1944 – V-mail
in: “Dearest Virginia. Love Letters from a Cavalry Officer in the South Pacific”, edited by Gayle Hunnicutt
“A month and a half ago I quarreled with Zina and left her. At first I was miserable, but soon I was once more stunned by the noise, the deafening clamor of freedom, its vivacity, movement, color. And this lives beside us. What happens to it when we are not alone? I found myself transformed; once more I had faith in the future.”
– Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), referring to his second wife, Zinaida, from a letter to Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), Moscow, dated June 8, 1941, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin
“What bliss of resurrection I felt to see the marvellous loops of your handwriting after so many years, which seem to be capable of protecting the Celestial Garden which the Angel (now become redundant) bearing a blazing sword keeps watch over. Your kindness in writing to me like this, and so quickly (qui cito dat, bis dat) brought back to me ancient feelings that you have since martyred a little.”
– Marcel Proust (1871—1922), from a letter to Anna de Noailles (1876—1933), dated 1919 (http://theesotericcuriosa.blogspot.com/)
“I do not care for the body, I love the timid soul, the blushing, shrinking soul; it hides, for it is afraid…”
– Emily Dickinson (1830—1886), from a letter to Abiah Root, dated January 2, 1851
“I want to come to you, because of the new Marina who can emerge only with you, in you…”
– Marina Tsvetaeva (1892—1941), from a letter to Rainer Maria Rilke (1875—1926), in: “A Russian Psyche: The Poetic Mind Of Marina Tsvetaeva” by Alyssa W. Dinega
“Goodnight dear. If you were in my bed it might be the back of your head I was touching, where the hair is short, or it might be up in the front where it makes little caves above your head. But wherever it was, it would be the sweetest place, the sweetest place”
– Zelda Fitzgerald (1900—1948), from a letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896—1940), dated 1931, in: “Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda. The Love Letters of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald”
“I embrace you and love you; I am happy. Sometimes when holding you in my arms, I regret not being able to be entirely yours; but when I consult only my heart, I tell myself that nothing can add to my feeling, and that I need nothing more to declare myself yours forever.”
– Prosper de Barante (1782—1866), from a letter to Germaine de Staël (1766—1817), Geneva, dated end of August, 1805, in: “Madame de Staël. Selected correspondence”, translated from the French by Kathleen Jameson-Cemper
“Still, we have the same solitude, the same journeys and searching, and the same favorite turns in the labyrinth of literature…”
– Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), from a letter to Marina Tsvetaeva (1892—1941), in: “The Same Solitude”, by Catherine Ciepiela
“… do you think, that one can love two people in the same way and that one can experience two identical sensations about them? I don’t think so, since our individuality changes at every moment of its existence.”
– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to George Sand (1804—1876), dated January, 1867
in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie
“God’s earth is good. It is only we on it who are bad.”
– 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
“You beautiful one – I know we belong to each other – A sweet kiss – Remember me to all. I’m with you – ”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated July 13, 1928, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“Dear, dear boy, you are more to me than any one of them has any idea; you are the atmosphere of beauty through which I see life; you are the incarnation of all lovely things. When we are out of tune, all colour goes from things for me, but we are never really out of tune. I think of you day and night.”
– Oscar Wilde (1854—1900), from a letter to Lord Alfred Douglas (1870—1945), dated August 13, 1894, in: “Oscar Wilde: A Life In Letters” by Merlin Holland
How poor are words in conveying the heights of splendor as I would like to! Yet how rich are our hearts that they can feel – no, more, experience – these splendors! How wonderful it is that even in the most contradictory surroundings we can hold fast to this precious treasure in its fullness! And how glorious that two people like us are able, despite the poverty of speech and despite all other obstacles, to share it fully with one another!”
– Eberhard Arnold (1883—1935), from a letter to Emmy von Hollander (1884—1980), dated March 30, 1907, in: “Love letters. Eberhard Arnold and Emmy von Hollander”
“You