– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), Portage, Wisconsin, dated July 27, 1928, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“At every moment of my life, God knows, I have always feared of ending you, not God. I have tried to please you, rather than him. It was your command and not the love of God that led me to the religious life. See how unhappy, how unspeakably wretched, is the life that I am living, if I endure all this for nothing here, and can look forward to no future reward. For a long time my pretense has deceived you, as it has deceived many others, into mistaking hypocrisy for piety. So you ardently commend yourself to my prayers, demanding of me what I expect of you. Do not, I beg you, have such confidence in me that you cease helping me by your prayers. Do not, I beg you, think that I am healthy and so withdraw the grace of healing from me. Do not believe that I am not in need and put off aiding me in my necessity. Do not consider me strong, or I may collapse and fall before you can sustain me.”
– Héloïse d’Argenteuil (1101? —1163/4?), from a letter to Pierre Abelard (1079—1142), in: “The Letters of Heloise and Abelard. A translation of their correspondence and related writings”, translated from the French by Mary Martin McLaughlin with Bonnie Wheeler
“Write soon and remember all the time that I love you.”
– Captain Hunnicutt, from a letter to Virginia Dickerson, dated January 11, 1944, in: “Dearest Virginia. Love Letters from a Cavalry Officer in the South Pacific”, edited by Gayle Hunnicutt
“My treasure,
Got up to pen you a few words as you are occupying my mind like an incubus.”
– Henry Miller (1891—1980), from a letter to Brenda Venus (born 1947), dated January 27, 11:30 PM, 1978, in: “Dear, Dear Brenda: The Love Letters of Henry Miller to Brenda Venus”
“Boris, I do not write true letters. The real ones don’t even touch the paper.”
– Marina Tsvetaeva (1892—1941), from a letter to Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), in: “A Russian Psyche: The Poetic Mind Of Marina Tsvetaeva” by Alyssa W. Dinega
“I’m in a happier state than I’ve experienced since your departure – yes, truly, it’s happiness, and the best kind, this strength of love that I feel between us, this close bond uniting us amid all this gloom. I love you so. I’m not thinking about the day when I’ll see you again, any more than I ever evoke our past – I too am blocked against all memory. But I don’t need to see you – I’m not separated from you, I’m still in the same world as you.”
– Simone de Beauvoir (1908—1986), from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre (1905—1980), Paris, dated Thursday, September 7, 1939, in: “Letters to Sartre”, translated from the French by Quintin Hoare
“I am reading now books on hygiene. Oh! but they are comic! What assurance physicians have! what effrontery! what asses for the most part! I have just finished the Gaule poetique of Marchangy (the enemy of Beranger). This book gave me hysterics.”
– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to George Sand (1804—1876), dated February 28, 1874, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie
“Come for me this evening… I will be loving you until then just to stay patient. See you this evening! Oh, this evening will be everything!
I will give myself to you completely.”
– Juliette Drouet (1806—1883), from a letter to Victor Hugo (1802—1885), dated February 16, 1833, in: “My beloved Toto: letters from Juliette Drouet to Victor Hugo, 1833—1882″, translated from the French by Victoria Tietze Larson
“You should not worry too much about me; this is still a very advantageous patch here on earth to be living on.”
– Werner Heisenberg (1901—1976), from a letter to Elisabeth Heisenberg (1914—1998), Hechingen, dated March 9, 1945, in: “My Dear Li. Werner and Elisabeth Heisenberg. Correspondence 1937—1946″, translated from the German by Irene Heisenberg
“A kiss Sweetestheart. – The mails are very cruel. I do hope nothing has gone wrong—
or that you are ill in any way. – All crazy ideas shoot thro one’s head!”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated July 4, 1929, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“At times I feel I have not matured at the same level with my dreams. I find myself rootless and abandoned like a stone… Without love, there is no meaning to life nor to art…”
– Mona Sa’udi (born 1945), from a letter to the editor, dated September 6, 1975, in: “Women of the Fertile Crescent: an anthology of modern poetry by Arab women”, edited by Kamal Boullata
“My Dear
I was so happy to hear you this A.M. I am just so very happy now, and I came back to bed and proceeded to write you at once.”
– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), dated August, 22, 1933, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”
“Sweetheart, I never could believe that you could feel that there could be anyone way down in the depth of all I am but you – ”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Boston, Massachusetts, dated September 3, 1926, in: My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“… our love will never change, & we feel that & our prayers for each other continue.”
– Alexandra Feodorovna (the last Empress of Russia, 1872—1918), from a letter to Ernest Louis (Grand Duke of Hesse and by Rhine, 1868—1937), dated April, 1915
“Sometimes lying in bed is pleasant – and one sort – waited for, longed for.”
– Leoš Janáček (1854—1928), from a letter to Kamila Janáček (1891—1935), dated December 31, 1927, in: “Intimate Letters: Leoš Janáček to Kamila Janáček”, translated by John Tyrrell
“Good Night my Dear Little One – Just a gentle Good Night kiss – very tender – ”
– 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″
“Although our books were open, we spoke more of love than of learning. There were more kisses than conferences. Our hands went more often to one another’s breasts than to our texts. If, to avoid suspicion, I sometimes struck her, my blows were the marks not of anger but of the tender affection that is sweeter than any perfume. Need I say more? In our passion we neglected no stage of love and if love could invent anything new, we added it. The less we had experienced these raptures, the more ardently we pursued them and the less our desire was quenched by them.”
– Pierre Abelard (1079—1142), from a letter to a friend. Letter 1: A Story of Calamities, in: “The Letters