Quotes from my Blog. Letters

“I want your, your news, of you, about your days; I want to see you, to follow you, to feel myself near you!

I picture so many things, I hear your voice, I know every expression of your face, all your gestures and your movements, how you turn your eyes and how you glance as you talk to one person or another; l could tell you everything about yourself, every slightest motion of your soul, every deeply concealed fold of your thought, the whole “momentariness” of life that goes through you without the time to register even in yourself or to appear for one instant in your awareness. But you don’t tell me anything and I don’t know anything. I continue my imagining in emptiness: “will it be so?” or “will it be true?” But I don’t know where you have your breakfast, whether in the hotel or in the store or in some restaurant…

I am no longer able to see you, and you can hardly imagine how much I suffer because of it.”

– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated March 3, 1930, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani

“The writers of the dictionary are foolish enough to try to define love. It can’t be done. The way I feel defies all definition and explanation. When I say I love you, what I feel is, without you, there is nothing. Everything would be a meaningless void. I wish I knew a pretty poem or quotation to close with but I’m at a loss.”

– Mike Royko (1932—1997), from a letter to Carol Joyce Duckman (1934—1979), postmarked August 13, 1954, in: “Royko in Love: Mike’s Letters to Carol”, by Mike Royko and David Royko

“I am truly, without exception, the most ungrateful individual on the face of this earth, and fully deserve whatever torture the Inferno has in store. (I forget what particular form they take.) I’m extremely sorry I didn’t reply at once. I had an incredible amount of work & just cut out writing to anyone.”

– Iris Murdoch (1919—1999), from a letter to Frank Thompson (1918—1989), Oxford, dated early Summer, 1940, in: “Iris Murdoch, a Writer At War. Letters and Diaries, 1939—1945″

“Do you not believe that love like ours is immortal and will only be fully realized in a more beautiful existence adapted to the fine development of what here is called affection? If the world were peopled with inhabitants as nearly perfect as you are, omnipotence would not have inflicted death upon man as a means of refining him for a better existence.”

– Nathaniel Dawson (1829—1895), from a letter to Elodie Todd (1840—1877), Bolivar Heights, dated May 19, 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

“… how secret and dual my life is, how dispersed, how full of contradictions. I have been supremely happy in recent months, yet I despair when I see how impotent this inner state is to influence the outer state.”

– Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), from a letter to Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), Moscow, dated January 7, 1953, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin

“ – I’m all tired – all over – Tired in my head – all of me – The tired in my head is bad. – ”

– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), Canyon, Texas, dated January 14, 1918, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“… the true truth is this: you are my creature, my creature, my creature, in which all my spirit lives with the very power of my creation, so much so that it has become your thing and you are all my life. And the true truth is that I am not old, but young, the youngest of all, in my mind as well as in my heart; in my blood, in my muscles, in my nerves… I am you, as you desire me, and if you do not want me anymore, I – by myself – I am nothing anymore, and living is no longer possible for me.”

– 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

“My thoughts are with you, you’re fully around me, invisible, necessary as air. You’re mine…

You’re passionate, I too; two fires – what a flame that would be!.. And we should write in blood now!!”

– 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 keep imagining our reunion and seeing each other again, and then I am as strong as iron, I stretch up tall and say ‘And yet, despite everything, the day of our reunion will come.’ A thousand sweet loving kisses.”

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

“I assure you that there is only one pleasure: learning what one does not know, and one happiness: loving the exceptions. Therefore I love you and I embrace you tenderly.”

– George Sand (1804—1876), from a letter to Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), Nohant, dated May 9, 1867, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie

“Do not forget me, for the love of God! Remember that, from far away, I’ll be always near you with my whole soul, in the wings, to delight in your voice, to follow each gesture, each movement, each expression of yours; to laugh if you laugh, to weep if you weep. No human creature has ever attached his own life to that of another creature as I did to yours. Always remember this.”

– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated September 27, 1929, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani

“You tell me… to write you every day, and if I do not I know you will reproach me. But the very idea that you want a letter every morning will prevent me from writing me! Let me love you in my manner… Don’t force me to do anything, and I shall do everything. Understand me and don’t reproach me. If I thought you were frivolous and stupid, like other women, I would inundate you with promises, oaths… but I prefer to express less, not more, than the true feelings of my heart. A thousand kisses, everywhere, everywhere…”

– 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

“Absence lessens half hearted passions and increases great ones, as the wind puts out the candles and yet stirs up the fire.”

– Mike Royko (1932—1997), from a letter to Carol Joyce Duckman (1934—1979), postmarked April 22, 1954, in: “Royko in Love: Mike’s Letters to Carol”, by Mike Royko and David Royko

“We, who live here and now, are not for a moment satisfied in the time-world nor confined in it; we incessantly flow over and over to those who preceded us, to our origin, and to those who seemingly come after us.”

– Rainer Maria Rilke (1875—1926), from a letter to Witold Hulewicz, dated November 13, 1925, in: “The Dark Interval. Rainer Maria Rilke. Letters on Loss, Grief and Transformation”, translated from the German by Ulrich Baer

“I must smile – You’re sweet – all of you – outside & inside – touchable & untouchable – Above all that center about which no one knows – still does – A kiss! And more – Good Morning.”

– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated July 24, 1928, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“I behold you without clouds. I see you the way I imagined you”

– Germaine de Staël (1766—1817), from a letter to O’Donnel, Coppet, dated 12 July, 1808, in: “Madame de Staël. Selected correspondence”, translated from the French by Kathleen Jameson-Cemper

“I love you so very much that I can hardly contain myself. I love you.”

– Captain Hunnicutt, from a letter to Virginia Dickerson, dated July 13, 1944 – V-mail, in: “Dearest Virginia. Love Letters from a Cavalry Officer in the South Pacific”, edited by Gayle Hunnicutt

“Please don’t be angry with me for the fragmentary and belated letters I have sent of late. I cannot begin to describe how complicated and full of care my life is. Half of my ‘replies’ are rush ones, a series of meaningless and reiterated exclamations. Naturally they annoy you.”

– Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), from a letter to Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), Moscow, dated July 8, 1941, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin

“Dear, why don’t you love me. Why aren’t we more loving and chummy. Why don’t you ever confide in me.”

– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), New York, N.Y., dated October 29, 1928, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”

“ – It’s pouring now – And there is a fog – the streets are slushy & slippery – the gutters little rivers – pneumonia weather.”

– 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″

“How good and kind you are!

And not well. That is the worst.”

– Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806—1861), from a letter to John Ruskin (1819—1900), dated December 24, 1855, in: “The Life and Work of John Ruskin” by William Gershom Collingwood

“It’s night again – and I want to write big but only have a few sheets of paper and may not go to town to get any for some time so I guess I had better write little.”

– Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), from a letter to Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), Canyon, Texas, dated January 31, 1918, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″

“I want terribly to speak with you. My soul is in upheaval. I don’t want to see anyone but you, because you are the only one I can talk to.”

– 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

“I feel like calling you right now… What would I say if I called? I don’t know. I guess I’d say I love you. Maybe I should be content with just writing it and wait ‘til we can be together before I say it. Maybe as you said, people can fall out of love but the only way I could stop loving you would be to stop breathing. I’ve felt this way for so long I don’t remember when it started. I felt this way when there was no hope and then I learned that there is always hope. How could I ever stop. Maybe if I knew I would so I could find out what it’s like to live and feel normal. Other people don’t seem to react the way I do… One fellow I work with… met a girl, their love was mutual and they live happily ever after. It sounds too easy but I guess it’s possible. I must have been one of the people who were born to live a complicated life. Come to think of it, you are too.”

– Mike Royko (1932—1997), from a letter to Carol Joyce Duckman (1934—1979), postmarked May 13, 1954, in: “Royko in Love: Mike’s Letters to Carol”, by Mike Royko and David Royko

“Miracles, after all, do happen! And it is a miracle that certain people waft such joyous grace on others.”

– Andrey Bely (1880—1934), from a letter to Marina Tsvetaeva (1892—1941), dated June, 1922, in: “No Love Without Poetry. The Memoirs of Marina Tsvetaeva’s Daughter” by Ariadna Efron, edited and translated from the Russian by Diane Nemec Ignashev

“One more milestone, one more year to your record. Dear One may you always know naught but joy and your path strewn with blessings, good wishes, love and peace. May you never know real sorrow, but instead so live that contentment will crown your whole life.”

– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), New York, N.Y., dated October 29, 1928, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”

“If I had not had you, I should most likely have turned into a block of wood; but now I am a human being again.”

– Fyodor Dostoevsky (1821—1881), from a letter to Maria Issayeva, dated June 4, 1855, in: “Fyodor Dostoevsky: Memoirs, Letters and Autobiographical Novels”, translated from the Russian by Ethel Colburn Mayne, John Middleton Murry, and S.S. Koteliansky

“Have you more courage than I have? Give me some of it?”

– 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

“So you can’t, you don’t want to say ‘Ty’ [casual form of ‘you’] to me? And I say ‘Ty’ to you all the time. You’ll say it too one day, I know. As for me, my fondness, my love for you, won’t pass, and neither, you hope, will yours for me. You need strong love and I’m happy that you’ve kindled in me such strong and undying love.”

– 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?”