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Letter Quotes

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Letter Quotes

“I have found her, a woman of such striking beauty that my hand aches to putt pen to paper. I long to capture all that I see and feel when I look upon her face, and yet at once I cannot bear to start. For how can I hope to do her justice? There is a nobility to her bearing, not of birth perhaps but of nature. She does not primp and appeal; indeed, it is her very openness, the way she has of meeting one's attention rather than averting her eyes. There is a sureness- a pride even- to the set of her lips, that is breathtaking. She is breathtaking. Now that I have seen her, anyone else would be an imposter. She is truth; truth is beauty; beauty is divine.”

TruthLetterIn LoveNatural BeautyMystery Woman
Book:The Clockmaker's Daughter
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“I have found her, a woman of such striking beauty that my hand aches to put pen to paper. I long to capture all that I see and feel when I look upon her face, and yet at once I cannot bear to start. For how can I hope to do her justice? There is a nobility to her bearing, not of birth perhaps but of nature. She does not primp and appeal; indeed, it is her very openness, the way she has of meeting one's attention rather than averting her eyes. There is a sureness- a pride even- to the set of her lips, that is breathtaking. She is breathtaking. Now that I have seen her, anyone else would be an imposter. She is truth; truth is beauty; beauty is divine.”

TruthLetterIn LoveNatural BeautyMystery Woman
Book:The Clockmaker's Daughter
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“In the domain of telling stories, a gesture homologous to translation would be a change in the plot of the original narrative which makes us think 'it is only now that we really understand what the story is about.' This is how we should approach numerous recent attempts to stage some classical opera by not only transposing its action into a different (most often contemporary) era, but also by changing some basic facts of the narrative itself. There is no a priori abstract criterion which would allow us to judge its success of failure: each such intervention is a risky act and must be judged by its own immanent standards. Such experiments often ridiculously misfire - however, not always, and there is no way to tell in advance, so one has to take the risk. Only one thing is certain: the only way to be faithful to a classic work is to take such as risk - avoiding it, sticking to the the traditional letter, is the safest way to betray the spirit of the classic. In other words, the only way to keep a classical work alive is to treat it as 'open', pointing towards the future, or, to use the metaphor evoked by Walter Benjamin, to act as if the classic work is a film for which the appropriate chemical liquid to develop was invented only later, so that it is only today that we can get the full picture. In both these cases, that of translation and that of (re)telling stories, the result is thus the same: instead of the original and its translation (or re-telling), both versions are conceived as fragmentary variations of an impossible Idea which can only be discerned by way of bringing out all its variations.”

SpiritClassicLetter
Book:Sex and the Failed Absolute
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“Dear Mr. Right People say you don't exist. Yes, I agree no one is perfect but people can be right with all the imperfections and flaws. Can't they? So, You must know that I do believe in you. I do believe somewhere out there you do exist. Yesterday my friend told me that you aren't riding a White horse but the tortoise that is why you are taking eons to reach me. But that's okay with me, I don't have any preference for your choice of a commute as long as you are using Google Maps with me as your destination. You must have detoured a lot. Hope you had fun but now it's time we start our own adventure. So, reach soon. Yours Forever”

Love QuotesForeverWittyLove QuoteLetterLove LetterWitty QuotesMr RightGoogle MapsOpen Letter
Author:Ankita Singhal
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“A man cannot un-see the truth. He cannot willingly return to darkness or go blind once he has the gift of sight, anymore than he can be unborn. We are the only species capable of self-reflection. The only species with the toxin of self-doubt written into our genetic code. Unequal to our gifts we build, we buy, we consume. We wrap ourselves in the illusion of material success. We cheat and deceive as we claw our way to the pinnacle of what we define as achievement; superiority to other men. But there is a sickness inside us. Rising like the bile that leaves that bitter taste at the back of our throats. We do our best to deny its existence, dealing in lies and distraction. Until one day the body rebels against the mind and screams out… I am not a well man. Only when we know what ails us can we hope to find the cure.”

LetterLockhartA Cure For WellnessPembroke
Author:Justin Haythe
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“In truth, I find the ocean unnerving. Too vast. I much prefer the forests around Stony Cross. They're always fascinating, and full of commonplace miracles... spiderwebs glittering with rain, new trees growing from the trunks of fallen oaks. I wish you could see them with me. And together we would listen to the wind rushing through the leaves overhead, a lovely swooshy melody... tree music!”

LetterForestNatures BeautyBeatrix HathawayBeatrix And Christopher
Book:Love in the Afternoon
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“Dear Mr. Beard, On the radio last spring, President Roosevelt said that each and every one of us here on the home front has a battle to fight; We must keep our spirits up. I am doing my best, but in my opinion Liver Gems are a lost cause, because they would take the spirit right out of anyone. So when Mother says it is wrong for us to eat better than our brave men overseas, I tell her that I don't see how eating disgusting stuff helps them in the least. But, Mr. Beard, it is very hard to cook good food when you're only a beginner! When Mother decided it was her patriotic duty to work at the airplane factory, she should have warned me about the recipes. You just can't trust them! Prudence Penny's are so revolting. I want to throw them right into the garbage. Mrs. Davis from next door lent me one of her wartime recipe pamphlets, and I read about liver salmi, which sounded so romantic. But by the time I had cooked the liver for twenty minutes in hot water, cut it into little cubes, rolled them in flour, and sautéed them in fat, I'd made flour footprints all over the kitchen floor. The consommé and cream both hissed like angry cats when I added them. Then I was supposed to add stoned olives and taste for seasoning. I spit it right into the sink.”

CookingHard TimesIngredientsWorld War IiLetterLiverWartimeRecipePresident Roosevelt1942Lulu SwanJames Beard
Book:Delicious!
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“Benjamin Munro was his name. She mouthed the syllables silently, Benjamin James Munro, twenty-six years old, late of London. He had no dependents, was a hard worker, a man not given to baseless talk. He'd been born in Sussex and grown up in the Far East, the son of archaeologists. He liked green tea, the scent of jasmine, and hot days that built towards rain. He hadn't told her all of that. He wasn't one of those pompous men who bassooned on about himself and his achievements as if a girl were just a pretty-enough face between a pair of willing ears. Instead, she'd listened and observed and gleaned, and, when the opportunity presented, crept inside the storehouse to check the head gardener's employment book. Alice had always fancied herself a sleuth, and sure enough, pinned behind a page of Mr. Harris's careful planting notes, she'd found Benjamin Munro's application. The letter itself had been brief, written in a hand Mother would have deplored, and Alice had scanned the whole, memorizing the bits, thrilling at the way the words gave depth and color to the image she'd created and been keeping for herself, like a flower pressed between pages. Like the flower he'd given her just last month. "Look, Alice"- the stem had been green and fragile in his broad, strong hand- "the first gardenia of the season.”

FlowerLetterSleuthAlice EdevaneAlice And BenBenjamin Munro
Book:The Lake House
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“Dear Mama, Whenever I would come home, no matter how long it had been, you would react the same way: the second you heard my voice you would smile. You would stand up at my urging and give me a hug, and sometimes, if I asked for it, a kiss on the cheek. You would look at me with such love that I would sometimes feel embarrassed, and you wouldn't stop smiling until I left.”

Letter
Book:Dear My Blank: Secret Letters Never Sent
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“Yesterday morning I managed briefly to escape Mamma, & passed a lovely hour in the roof garden. I thought of you, dearest, & how amazed you would be to see that such vegetation could be grown on board a ship. There are tubs at every turn, filled with green trees & the most beautiful flowers. I felt quite joyous sitting among them (no one knows better than I the healing properties of a garden) & gave myself over to all kinds of silly daydreams. (You will be able to imagine well enough the paths down which my fancies rambled...)”

LetterEliza MakepeaceCruise ShipRose MountrachetRoof Garden
Book:The Forgotten Garden
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“A, It scares me sometimes, how much my happiness relies on you. It scares me because I know there will be a time when you aren't near me, and I don't know what I'm going to do then. You have no idea, though, how much you mean to me. I long to tell you and the words "I love you" always seem to be on the tip of my tongue, but I do not want to lose out on being your friend by spilling my feelings unnecessarily. So in case you think all of those poems were about you and this letter is addressed to you, you are 100 percent right. But you probably don't and may never find this. And that's the point. Sending all of my love your way, E”

Letter
Author:Emily Trunko
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“Եթե մարդ ուզում է հոգեկան հանգստություն, խաղաղություն ունենալ, պետք է նախ և առաջ մահվան մտքի հետ բարեկամանա. դեպի այդ երևույթն անտարբեր դառնա: Ամեն գնով ապրելու ցանկությունը մարդուն շատ սխալներ կատարելու պատճառ է դառնում: Ես այժմ ինձ անսահման հանգիստ և խաղաղ եմ զգում, որովհետև մահվան գաղափարը չնչին բան է դարձել ինձ համար: Դրա ստրակցնող ազդեցությունից պետք է դուրս գալ. սիրելիս, սա հուսահատություն չի, այլ շատ ավելի բարձր և բարոյական տեսակի կյանք:”

DeathExileLetter
Book:Խոսե՛ք, Նամակներ
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“Dear Mommy I’m doing really good, I get all A’s in school And I don’t cry at bedtime anymore, Though my new mom said I could. I remember how much you hate tears, You slapped them out of me To make me strong, I think it worked. I learned to use a microscope And my hair grew two inches. It’s pretty, just like yours. I’m not allowed to clean the house, Only my own room, Isn’t that a funny rule? You say kids are so much trouble Getting born, they better pay it back. I’m not supposed to take care Of the other kids, only me, I sort of like it. I still get the hole in my stomach When I do something wrong, I have a saying on my mirror “Kids make mistakes, It’s OK,” I read it every day, Sometimes I even believe it. I wonder if you ever think of me Or if you’re glad the troublemaker’s gone, I never want to see you again. I love you, Mommy.”

MotherAbuseChildLetter
Book:Will I Ever Be Good Enough? Healing the Daughters of Narcissistic Mothers
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“Some of us, white and black, know how great a price has already been paid to bring into existence a new consciousness, a new people, an unprecedented nation. If we know, and do nothing, we are worse than the murderers hired in our name. If we know, then we must fight for your life as though it were our own - which it is - and render impassable with our bodies the corridor to the gas chamber. For, if they take you in the morning, they will be coming for us that night.”

LetterAngela DavisIf They Come In The Morning
Author:James Baldwin
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“Science and everyday life cannot and should not be separated. Science, for me, gives a partial explanation of life ... I do not accept your definition of faith i.e. belief in life after death ... Your faith rests on the future of yourself and others as individuals, mine in the future and fate of our successors. It seems to me that yours is the more selfish ... [as to] the question of a creator. A creator of what? ... I see no reason to believe that a creator of protoplasm or primeval matter, if such there be, has any reason to be interested in our insignificant race in a tiny corner of the universe.”

ReligionAtheismFeminismLetterAgnosticism
Author:Rosalind Franklin
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“Dear whoever is reading this, I wish I could find a way to take all of your sadness away and replace it with happiness. I can't. But I can try. You are worth it. You have entire galaxies within you and an entire life ahead of you. You will do so much and meet so many more people. Keep going. Things will get hard. But they will also get better. Keep smiling. It's okay to cry every once in a while. It's okay to spend time alone. But it's important to keep gong. Good luck. Love, A”

Letter
Book:Dear My Blank: Secret Letters Never Sent
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“I have only known you for a few months but I cannot realize that there was ever a time when I did not know you. . .when you had not come into my life to bless and hallow it. I will always look back to this year as the most wonderful in my life because it brought you to me... My love for you has made my life very rich and it has kept me from much of harm and evil. I owe this all to you, my sweetest teacher.”

LoveTeacherClassicLetter
Book:Anne of Avonlea (Annotated)
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“Dear Matt, In less than a day, I’ ll be standing on the same sand you stood on so many times before. Well, not the same sand, with the tides and winds and erosion and all of that, but the same symbolic sand. I’m so excited and scared that I can’ t sleep – even though I have to wake up in five hours! You know, I saved every one of your postcards. They’re here in a box under my bed – all the little stories you sent, like little pieces of California. Like the beach glass you guys always brought me. Sometimes I dump it out on my desk and press my ear to the pieces, trying to hear the ocean. Trying to hear you. But you don’ t say anything. Remember how you’ d come back from your vacation on the beach and tell me what it really felt like? What the ocean sounded like at dawn when the beach was deserted? What your hair and skin tasted like after swimming in saltwater all day? How the sand could burn your feet as you walked on it, but if you stuck your toes in, it was cold and wet underneath? How you spent three hours sitting on Ocean Beach just to watch the sun sink into the water a million miles away? If I closed my eyes as you were talking, it was like I was there, like your stories were my stories. In many ways, I feel as if I have memories of you there, too. Do you think that’s crazy? Matt, please don’ t think badly about Frankie’s contest. It’s just a silly game. It’s so Frankie, you know? No, I guess you wouldn’ t. You’ d kill her if you did! She just misses you. We all do. I’ ll look out for her, though. I promise. Please watch over us tomorrow, and for the next few weeks while we’re away. You’ ll be in my thoughts the whole time, like always. I’m going to find some red sea glass for you. I miss you more than you could ever know. Love, Anna”

LoveOceanDearBeachCaliforniaDeadJournalLetterMissAnna ReileyMatt PerinoWatch Over
Book:Twenty Boy Summer
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“Dear World, I'm not quiet because I'm shy. I'm quiet because everywaking minute there are thousands of thoughts swirling around in my head. And I'm constantly sorting through them, remembering the good ones and fighting the bad ones. I'm an overthinker. It's who I am. Please just be patient with me. I swear I want to talk to you. I just need some extra time to get my thoughts in order. Love, me”

Letter
Book:Dear My Blank: Secret Letters Never Sent
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