love her & teach us to see.”
– Vincent Van Gogh (1853—1890), from a letter to his brother, Theo Van Gogh (1857—1891), London, dated January, 1874, in: “The Letters Of Vincent Van Gogh”, translated from the French and Dutch by Arnold Pomerans
“I need to be alone. I am tired of grandeur; all my feelings have dried up. I no longer care about my glory. At twenty-nine I have exhausted everything.”
– Napoleon Bonaparte (1769—1821), from a letter to his brother, Joseph Bonaparte (1768—1844) (pbs.org)
“I love you … —
Don’t you know it – Should I be silent? —
I haven’t reread this letter – it may be hard to make out – Don’t waste time over it.
– If you [have] written don’t throw away the letters. Send what you write. I’d tear this up. —
I know it must sound broken – & not beautiful – not flowing – not as I should like it to be. —
But I’m not flowing – not beautiful these days. I am broken – & I don’t like myself at all. But
I’m trying hard to find my line again. You’ll help me. I must believe you will. —
Won’t you?”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated July 6, 1929, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“All the week I have been thinking intensely of you and what you have done for me. And I have written you several letters that I have not sent because none of them were true enough. There were too many words in them, I guess. But all of them contained in some form or other these simple statements:
I love you.
I need you very much.
I cannot bear to hurt you.
Those are the only meaning in all that I say here. You have been kinder to me than any other person in the world. I could not help but love you. You have made me dream greater dreams than I have ever dreamed before. And without you it will not be possible to carry out those dreams. But I cannot stand to disappoint you either. The memory of your face when I went away on Monday is more than I am able to bear. I must have been terribly stupid to have hurt you so, terribly lacking in understanding, terribly blind to what you have wanted me to see. You must not let me hurt you again. I know well that I am dull and slow, but I do not want to remain that way. I don’t know what to say except that I am sorry that I have not changed rapidly enough into what you would have me be. The other unsent letters contained more words than this one. They were much longer. They were much more emotionally revealing, perhaps. But I do not know how to write what I want to say any simpler than it is said here. Words only confuse, and I must not offer excuses for the things in which I have failed. Your face was so puzzled and so weary that day. I shall never forget it. You have been my friend… and I did not want to disappoint you. If I can do no better than I have done, then for your own sake, you must let me go. You must be free, too… At first we had wings. If there are no wings now for me, you must be free! We can still fly ahead always like the bright dream that is truth, and goodness. Free!”
– Langston Hughes (1902—1967), from a surviving draft of a letter to Charlotte Mason, dated February 23, 1929, in: “The Life of Langston Hughes: Volume I: 1902—1941, I, Too, Sing, America”, by Arnold Rampersad
“I quiver in every nerve with pain. I am wrecked with the recurring tides of hysteria. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. Why? Because on every side there comes in nothing but the tidings of evil, of indifference, of pretence.”
– Oscar Wilde (1854—1900), from a letter to More Adey, Reading Prison, dated May 12, 1897, in: “Oscar Wilde: A Life In Letters” by Merlin Holland
“Soon, I hope, I will be holding you in my arms; then I will cover you with a million hot kisses, burning like the equator.”
– Napoleon Bonaparte (1769—1821), from a letter to Joséphine de Beauharnais (1763—1814), dated November, 1796 (pbs.org)
“Let me kiss you on the mouth – let me kiss your neck – behind the eyes – let me kiss each eye – & mouth again. Let me kiss the abdomen – each breast – each side of your sweetest of all behinds… & lie there – And then let [me] hold you firmly & let happen what will. I think were you here now I’d even risk all – just without anything. Madness I know – But I am mad with You penetrating every fiber of me – every pulse
beat is you – And you ought to know it. And you don’t – And you don’t believe it now – That’s what I have forfeited. —
That’s the cross I bear – which robs me of all initiative. – Has killed the dream.”
– Alfred Stieglitz (1864—1946), from a letter to Georgia O’Keeffe (1887—1986), Lake George, New York, dated July 6, 1929, in: “My Faraway One. Selected Letters of Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Volume 1, 1915—1933″
“There is so much that moves me today that I don’t know how I’ll ever end this letter. And I long for you so terribly!”
– Eberhard Arnold (1883—1935), from a letter to Emmy von Hollander (1884—1980), Breslau, dated April 28, 1907, in: “Love letters. Eberhard Arnold and Emmy von Hollander”
“Your ghost everywhere – & I lonely beyond words…”
– 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″
“O my love, you whom I cherish above all things, white narcissus in an unmown field…”
– Oscar Wilde (1854—1900), from a letter to Lord Alfred Douglas (1870—1945), Courtfield Gardens, Kensington, dated May 20, 1895, in: “Oscar Wilde: A Life In Letters” by Merlin Holland
“I have never been able to ‘do’ anything; I can only let things take their course and if need be, suffer. This is where my strength lies, and it is great strength indeed. But for myself, not for others.”
– Etty Hillesum (1914—1943), from a letter to Maria, from a Westerbork transit camp for Jews, Westerbork, dated July 10, 1943, in: “An Interrupted Life: Diaries and Letters 1941—43. And Letters from Westerbork”, translated from the Dutch by Arnold J. Pomerans
“When I’m with you, nothing seems terrible to me, not even leaving you. But away from you, the slightest fear is unbearable. I love you passionately – I’m empty and miserable without you.”
– Simone de Beauvoir (1908—1986), from a letter to Jean-Paul Sartre (1905—1980), Albertville,
