Quotessence
Home / Topics / Letter Quotes

Letter Quotes

Browse 339 quotes about Letter.

Letter Quotes

“Though these words will never find you, I hope that you knew I was thinking of you today….. and that I was wishing you every happiness. Love Always, The girl you loved once.”

“My dearest friend Abigail, These probably could be the last words I write to you and I may not live long enough to see your response but I truly have lived long enough to live forever in the hearts of my friends. I thought a lot about what I should write to you. I thought of giving you blessings and wishes for things of great value to happen to you in future; I thought of appreciating you for being the way you are; I thought to give sweet and lovely compliments for everything about you; I thought to write something in praise of your poems and prose; and I thought of extending my gratitude for being one of the very few sincerest friends I have ever had. But that is what all friends do and they only qualify to remain as a part of the bunch of our loosely connected memories and that's not what I can choose to be, I cannot choose to be lost somewhere in your memories. So I thought of something through which I hope you will remember me for a very long time. I decided to share some part of my story, of what led me here, the part we both have had in common. A past, which changed us and our perception of the world. A past, which shaped our future into an unknown yet exciting opportunity to revisit the lost thoughts and to break free from the libido of our lost dreams. A past, which questioned our whole past. My dear, when the moment of my past struck me, in its highest demonised form, I felt dead, like a dead-man walking in flesh without a soul, who had no reason to live any more. I no longer saw any meaning of life but then I saw no reason to die as well. I travelled to far away lands, running away from friends, family and everyone else and I confined myself to my thoughts, to my feelings and to myself. Hours, days, weeks and months passed and I waited for a moment of magic to happen, a turn of destiny, but nothing happened, nothing ever happens. I waited and I counted each moment of it, thinking about every moment of my life, the good and the bad ones. I then saw how powerful yet weak, bright yet dark, beautiful yet ugly, joyous yet grievous; is a one single moment. One moment makes the difference. Just a one moment. Such appears to be the extreme and undisputed power of a single moment. We live in a world of appearance, Abigail, where the reality lies beyond the appearances, and this is also only what appears to be such powerful when in actuality it is not. I realised that the power of the moment is not in the moment itself. The power, actually, is in us. Every single one of us has the power to make and shape our own moments. It is us who by feeling joyful, celebrate for a moment of success; and it is also us who by feeling saddened, cry and mourn over our losses. I, with all my heart and mind, now embrace this power which lies within us. I wish life offers you more time to make use of this power. Remember, we are our own griefs, my dear, we are our own happinesses and we are our own remedies. Take care! Love, Francis. Title: Letter to Abigail Scene: "Death-bed" Chapter: The Road To Awe”

“...as we are endowed. ...with rhetorics. ...none will deny. ...of innocence. ...towards scribbling. ...of love lines. ...and of lust. ...to what seems like male. ...to what seems like female. ...in those days. ...I mean nothing. ...but in high school. ....even me. ...I can't deny.”

“Twenty years from now, when I’ll become super-successful, very hot old man in an on-point outfit, being chauffeured in a limo. And you’ll be wrinkly and fat and poor after losing all your money in shopping and charity. You’ll still be unbelievably out of my league… just like you were in the past. And just like you’re today. — Siddhartha Aggarwal”

“I don’t know how long I sit there, tears trickling quietly down my cheeks, gazing at the deep blue sky. My friend Riti says, whatever we manifest from the moon, star, water, and nature, the universe conspires to make that wish come true. Now when I’m in the core of nature, sitting under the moon, watching two trails of silver light streak through the stars, my feet hanging in the river, I close my eye and wish just this. Because right now, this is everything. He is everything. I don’t want this to be bad, and I don’t want this to be nothing. I want this to last forever. I want us to last forever.”

“I can give away my whole loveless life for this one moment. Pure like a child and fresh like spring. There’s no better way to love than this. To love foolishly. To love in the moment, with everything you have. Everyone who came before, all the heartbreak and the love before falling in love with him, the recklessness of this moment has made them all meaningless.”

“It didn’t talk about pretty lights, love, or shiny stars, but when he called me kid, it felt like somebody grabbed my hand and pulled me out of my OCD cycle. It was soothing, it was freedom. It was so weird. I felt like I had known him for years. I had become so weak from the inside that even the slightest word of comfort blew this intense emotion in me. — Arya Kashyap”

“October first it was, fifteen past eight. For twenty minutes my heart was ringing, my soul was singing. Because he was typing on the other side. Just the hi, and hahaha. Silly, meaningless conversation, he didn’t even remember. That was my happiest twenty minutes. I stepped out of my house, got a haircut, I thought he’d like. After three days when my face was fine, I scrolled through his page, looked for the things he liked. Then I made a list of things to do, French class, swimming class, aerobics, and a road trip on November nineteen. On October first, fifteen past eight. My heart was ringing, my soul was singing because he wasn’t just typing on the other side. He was writing on my heart with a permanent marker, in pink.”

“At that moment, I was one hundred percent captivated by him. My go-to instinct to be aloof and unattached went out of the window because I was so overwhelmingly fascinated by him. I always kept things under control, but Siddhartha made me behave in a way I never did before. Everything I wrote after that made little to absolutely no sense, because after that moment, I fancied him, and that feeling scared me.”

“Everybody said he’d break my heart, and I knew that too. But only young can risk. It could have been worse. I could have been forty, he could have been married. But we were twenty four, and that was Valentine. I sent another text, five hundred and ninth. Because he lied, he said he was single that time. And since I was twenty four, I risked it all. I fell in love with the guy, who got the most adorable smile. I gave him all of my heart and he didn’t even give me a reply.”

“All this happened by chance, and it all happened in my head. But you broke my heart just like that. You’re a liar, you said you were single. You didn’t stop me from dreaming. Not once. Our song is not your song. Our story is not your story. I am writing this story alone, I am writing our song alone.”

“I always thought we’d have our song. About the small town girl and the big city snob. The song would be about our first date, first fight, and our first kiss. Then maybe you’d leave, but you’d come back, because there’d be something about me, you’d miss. It would be about the late night drives, busy streets and traffic lights. You’d look at me eye to eye, then you’d kiss me a deep sorry for the big fight last night We’d sing our song even in our seventies. In the front porch, under the maple tree. The song would be about our mini-van, Where you’d play the guitar with your old wrinkly hands. It’d be about our fortieth anniversary night, Our extraordinary love might have become ordinary over time. But trust me, we’d be fine, and I’d desperately fall for your smile, Not only in our seventies, even when you’d be as old as eighty-five.”

“I wonder if I should really expose that much of myself to Siddhartha. Should I let him hear my shaky voice, emboldened by any word he says? Should I let him see the way my face lights up when he smiles so generously. Maybe if I let him see me, he’ll let me see him too. Or maybe I’ll make a huge fool of myself. Far worse, I’ll disappoint myself and everyone related to me. Again.”

“I always thought, we’d have our story. It would go like, once upon a time, I saw a guy with the most adorable smile. After letters, and songs, and sketches, he became the highlight of my day. He wouldn’t even look at me at first, but after he had his shares of heart breaks, risks, and reckless love. He called me. We fell in love. We laughed. We travelled. We remodeled our house. We bought grocery together. He called me sweetheart and turned my whole world upside down.”

“People stumble upon things they want to stumble upon. I find Siddhartha now and then. In the past, I often stumbled upon his pictures and videos because I wanted to. I’ve always been afraid of giving up on the hope that one day Siddhartha will find me. Because then he might never. The only thing that makes my life worth living is the likelihood of having my dreams come true.”

“I wonder, if I’ll document our story, Siddhartha and mine…more mine than his, will it be a musical? If it will be a musical, and if it will have our story…what will be our song? Will it be a good song? Everybody has a story, the stranger we meet on a ferry or the little girl we see across the road, we all share a story together, might just be a story of eye contact, or the story of silence…the story of nothingness, but there are stories, everywhere, between everyone…but not all of us share a song together…I want to share a song with Siddhartha, and I want him to share a song with me. I’ll call them our song.”

“I want a romance novel, not an ugly soap opera. Once we break up, we lose things we fell in love for. When we get back together, it’s not the same. The essence is gone. It’s a new person and a new story. And if I get a new story, I want new characters too. Not the same person, again and again, breaking, losing parts, trying to fix the irreparable.”