letters I might even hang myself, learn to drink the poor Crimean wine or marry an ugly and stupid woman.”
– Anton Chekhov (1860—1904), from a letter to Grigori Rossolimo (1860—1928), Yalta, dated October 11, 1899, in: “The Selected Letters of Anton Chekhov”, translated from the Russian by Sidonie Lederer
“Another gray & threatening morning. – I’m downstairs. It’s seven. – The sleeping potion gave me sleep. – Till six. And then I lay in your bed wondering will a letter come. And what will it bring me. Peace or torture?”
– 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″
“At last I have a moment of quiet and I can write to you. But I have so many things to chat with you about, that I hardly know where to begin…”
– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to George Sand (1804—1876), dated Sunday, January, 1872, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie
“I am crying, Rainer, you are streaming from my eyes!”
– Marina Tsvetaeva (1892—1941), from a letter to Rainer Maria Rilke (1875—1926), the letter she wrote after he died, dated December 31, 1926-February 8, 1927, in: “Letters. Summer 1926. Boris Pasternak. Marina Tsvetaeva, Rainer Maria Rilke”, translated by Margaret Wettlin, Walter Arndt, Jamey Gambrell
“I wish you were inspired to write to me more often, because the need I always have of your letters, as of air to breathe, at this moment is greater than ever…”
– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated October 11, 1931, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani
“I would like to have a talk with you. I am utterly lonely.”
– Anton Chekhov (1860—1904), from a letter to Alexei Suvorin (1834—1912), Melikhovo, dated August 1, 1892, in: “The Selected Letters of Anton Chekhov”, translated from the Russian by Sidonie Lederer
“… we love each other on credit and guess more than we know.”
– Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), from a letter to Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), St. Petersburg, dated July 12, 1910, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin
“What a foolish life I have been leading for two and a half months! How is it that I have not croaked with it? My longest nights have not been over five hours. What running about! What letters! and what anger! – repressed – unfortunately! At last, for three days I have slept all I wanted to, and I am stupefied by it.”
– Gustave Flaubert (1821—1880), from a letter to George Sand (1804—1876), dated Sunday, January, 1872, in: “The George Sand-Gustave Flaubert Letters”, translated from the French by A.L. McKenzie
“Sometimes I think that the artistic life is a long and lovely suicide, and am not sorry that it is so.”
– Oscar Wilde (1854—1900), from a letter to H. C. Marillier, dated December 12, 1885, in: “Oscar Wilde: A Life In Letters”
“You’ve been sparing with words. What’s the matter with you again?”
– Leos Janacek (1854—1928), from a letter to Kamila Stosslova (1891—1935), dated March 27, 1927, in: “Intimate Letters: Leoš Janáček to Kamila Janáček”, translated by John Tyrrell
“For the love of God, please write! It’s all I have left…”
– Luigi Pirandello (1867—1936), from a letter to Marta Abba (1900—1988), dated February 27, 1930, in: “Pirandello’s Love Letters to Marta Abba”, translated from the Italian by Benito Ortolani
“She was very kind to me, she was…”
– John Miller (1819—1895), from a letter to Sally Campbell Preston McDowell (1821—1895), Philadelphia, dated October 24, 1854, in: “If You Love That Lady Don’t Marry Her: The Courtship Letters of Sally Mcdowell and John Miller, 1854—1856″
“Sweetheart, please dont worry about me – I want to always be a help – You know I am all yours and love you with all my heart.”
– Zelda Fitzgerald (1900—1948), from a letter to Francis Scott Fitzgerald (1896—1940), Montgomery, Alabama, dated February 1919, in: “Dear Scott, Dearest Zelda. The Love Letters of F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald”
“I do not live in my lips, and he who kisses me misses me.”
– Marina Tsvetaeva (1892—1941), from a letter to Rainer Maria Rilke (1875—1926), dated August, 22, 1926, in: “Letters. Summer 1926. Boris Pasternak. Marina Tsvetaeva, Rainer Maria Rilke”, translated by Margaret Wettlin, Walter Arndt, Jamey Gambrell
“Your letters are like the visits of angels and are refreshing vessels in the dreary path of life. And I know, as you love me, you will continue to lighten my life with them. I will not ask you to write me daily but hope you will twice or three times a week…”
– Nathaniel Dawson (1829—1895), from a letter to Elodie Todd (1840—1877), dated May 30, 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
“… my ‘acute crisis’ has passed and again I want to see you all, talk to you, visit with you.”
– Olga Freidenberg (1890—1955), from a letter to Boris Pasternak (1890—1960), St. Petersburg, dated July 12, 1910, in: “The Correspondence of Boris Pasternak and Olga Freidenberg, 1910—1954″, translated from the Russian by Elliott Mossman and Margaret Wettlin
“ALL MY LIFE I have been bawled out, balled up, held up, held down, bull-dozed, black-jacked, walked on, cheated, squeezed and mooched; stuck up for war tax, dog tax, cigarette and gas tax, Liberty Bonds, baby bond and matrimony, Red Cross, green cross and double cross, asked to join the G. A. R., Women’s Relief Corps, Men’s relief and stomach relief; I have worked like Hell, soles on my shoes nearly gone, I have been drunk, gotten others drunk, lost all I had and part of my furniture and because I won’t spend or lend all of the little I earn and go beg, borrow or steal, I have been cussed and discussed, hung up, robbed and damn near ruined and in spite of it all, instead of being cut and scraped, butchered and carved by cheap razor blades, the only reason I am happy today is because I use Double-edge – ”
– Carrie Hughes (1873—1938), from a letter to Langston Hughes (1902—1967), Saturday, February 16, 1935, in: “My Dear Boy: Carrie Hughes’s Letters to Langston Hughes, 1926—1938”
“Do
