Love Letters- an anthology of passion
''I gave my life to you as soon as i saw you'' ( Marianna Aleoforado, a portughese nun, to Noel Bouton , sep. 1668. He sedused her and abandoned)
''I already love in you your beauty, but i am only beggining to love in you that which is eternal-your heart. Beauty one could get to know and fall in love with in one hoaru and cease to love it as speedily. But the soul one must learn to know. Believe me, nothing on earth is given without labour, even love. ''( Leo Tolstoi to Valeria Arseniev, june 1856)
''Where?
When?
How Much?
Her reply: Your place. Tonight. Free.''
( Prince de Joinville , aristrocratic French adventurer, to Rachel Feleix, an actress, circa 1840, on seeing first time.)
''I kiss you firmly a hundred times embrace you tenderly and am sketcking in my imagination various pictures in which you and i figure and nobody and nothing else.''( Anton Chekhov, to Olga, his wife, aug 1901)
''You are my largesse, my intoxicating superfluity! '' ( Richard Wagner to Judith Gautier , sep 1876)
''I Have seen only you, i have admired only you, i desire only you''. ( Napoleon Bonaparte to Madam Marie Waleska, Jan, 1st 1807)
'' Monsieur, the poor have not need of much to sustain them. They ask only for the crumbs they die of hunger. No do i , either, need much affection from those i love. I should not know what to do with a friendship entire and complete- i am not used to it. But you showed me of youre a little interest, when i was your pupil in Brussels, and i hold on to the maintenance of that little interest- i i hold on to it as i would hold on to life '' ( Charlotte Bronte to Professor Constantin Heger, Jan 1845)
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
Monday, 12 October 2009
Sylvia. Sylvia plath.
Wuthering Heights
The horizons ring me like faggots,
Tilted and disparate, and always unstable.
Touched by a match, they might warm me,
And their fine lines singe
The air to orange
Before the distances they pin evaporate,
Weighting the pale sky with a solider color.
But the only dissolve and dissolve
Like a series of promises, as i step forward.
There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction.
I can feel it trying
To funnel my heart away
If i pay the roots of the heather
Too close attention, they will invite me
To whiten my bones among them.
The sheep known where they are
Browsing in their dirty wool-clouds
Gray as the wheather.
The sky leans on me, me, the one upright
Among all horizpontals.
The grass is beating its head distractedly.
It is too delicate
For a life in such company
Darkness terrifies it.
Now, in valleys narrow
And the black as purses, the house lights
Gleam like small change.
The horizons ring me like faggots,
Tilted and disparate, and always unstable.
Touched by a match, they might warm me,
And their fine lines singe
The air to orange
Before the distances they pin evaporate,
Weighting the pale sky with a solider color.
But the only dissolve and dissolve
Like a series of promises, as i step forward.
There is no life higher than the grasstops
Or the hearts of sheep, and the wind
Pours by like destiny, bending
Everything in one direction.
I can feel it trying
To funnel my heart away
If i pay the roots of the heather
Too close attention, they will invite me
To whiten my bones among them.
The sheep known where they are
Browsing in their dirty wool-clouds
Gray as the wheather.
The sky leans on me, me, the one upright
Among all horizpontals.
The grass is beating its head distractedly.
It is too delicate
For a life in such company
Darkness terrifies it.
Now, in valleys narrow
And the black as purses, the house lights
Gleam like small change.
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