– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), En route from Lake George, New York, to Chicago, Illinois, dated July 12, 1928, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“I have come back home very sad and discouraged with everything. I’m suffering, I’m weeping, I’m lamenting loudly and softly – to God, to you – and I would like to die once and for all, to be finished with all the misery, all the disappointments, all the pains. It’s as though my happiness has vanished with the fine days, and to expect them to come back – both it and them – would be almost madness, for as I look around myself and inside myself I find the season late for fine days and happy days.”
– Juliette Drouet (1806—1883), from a letter to Victor Hugo (1802—1885), dated February, 1933, in: “My beloved Toto: letters from Juliette Drouet to Victor Hugo, 1833—1882″, translated from the French by Victoria Tietze Larson
“You are a flower about to open and fully opened at the same time.”
– 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