Best 885 quotes in «letters quotes» category

There! you will think this a dreadfully preaching letter! I suppose I have a natural tendency to preach just at present because I am overwhelmed with my work.

The stars are brilliant at this time of night and I wander these streets like a ritual I don’t dare to break for darling, the times are quite glorious. I left him by the water’s edge, still waving long after the ship was gone and if someone would have screamed my name I wouldn’t have heard for I’ve said goodbye so many times in my short life that farewells are a muscular task and I’ve taught them well. There’s a place by the side of the railway near the lake where I grew up and I used to go there to burry things and start anew. I used to go there to say goodbye. I was young and did not know many people but I had hidden things inside that I never dared to show and in silence I tried to kill them, one way or the other, leaving sin on my body scrubbing tears off with salt and I built my rituals in farewells. Endings I still cling to. So I go to the ocean to say goodbye. He left that morning, the last words still echoing in my head and though he said he’d come back one day I know a broken promise from a right one for I have used them myself and there is no coming back. Minds like ours are can’t be tamed and the price for freedom is the price we pay. I turned away from the ocean as not to fall for its plea for it used to seduce and consume me and there was this one night a few years back and I was not yet accustomed to farewells and just like now I stood waving long after the ship was gone. But I was younger then and easily fooled and the ocean was deep and dark and blue and I took my shoes off to let the water freeze my bones. I waded until I could no longer walk and it was too cold to swim but still I kept on walking at the bottom of the sea for I could not tell the difference between the ocean and the lack of someone I loved and I had not yet learned how the task of moving on is as necessary as survival. Then days passed by and I spent them with my work and now I’m writing letters I will never dare to send. But there is this one day every year or so when the burden gets too heavy and I collect my belongings I no longer need and make my way to the ocean to burn and drown and start anew and it is quite wonderful, setting fire to my chains and flames on written words and I stand there, starring deep into the heat until they’re all gone. Nothing left to hold me back. You kissed me that morning as if you’d never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains wrapped around my veins, and if you see a fire from the shore tonight it’s my chains going up in flames. The time of moon i quite glorious. We could have been so glorious.

The tear-stained letters of my regret will remain forever unread, for I am never going to be strong enough to give them to you.

The world isn’t always what’s right in front of you, you know? It’s below, it’s above, it’s out there somewhere. Every burn of every light inside every house I see when I look down from the rooftop has a story. Sometimes we just need to change our perspective. And when I look down at everything, I remember that there’s more out there than just what’s going on in my house—the bullshit with my dad, school, my future. I look at all those full houses, and I remember, I’m just one of many. It’s not to say we’re not special or important, but it’s comforting, I guess. You don’t feel so alone.

They believed that the very name Croat comes from the word mountain (gora)... They were competing in the reading of the Bible and the chapters in which their name was mentioned: Isa 10, 29; Isa 10, 31; Ezek 27, 9; Ps 83, 8.

This letter isn’t to mark any significant point in your life or mine. This letter is Just Because…Just Because.

They could read it on each other, their faces wrinkled pages. Words hiding in the folds of their clothes. She was made of letters then, as all of us are now.

They say no one reads anymore, but I find that's not the case. Prisoners read. I guess they're not given much access to computers. A felicitous injustice for me. The nicest reader letters I've received– also the only reader letters I've received– have come from prisoners. Maybe we're all prisoners? In our lives, our habits, our relationships?

Think not of the fragility of life, but of the power of books, when mere words can change our lives simply by being next to each other.

This time, Fusako was able to express herself with fluency and candor. The bold letters she had been writing week after week had granted her an unexpected new freedom.

Think not of the fragility of life, but of the power of books, when mere words have the ability to change our lives simply by being next to each other.

Ti se nadaš da čuješ nešto više o Viktoru Igou. Šta mogu da ti o njemu kažem ? To je čovek kao i svaki drugi, sa dosta ružnim licem i dosta prostom spoljašnjošću. Ima izvaredne zube i veličanstveno čelo, bez obrva, bez trepavica. Malo govori, izgleda da pazi na sebe i da neće da govori više nego što treba; vrlo je učtiv i pomalo usiljen. Veoma mi se sviđa zvuk njegovog glasa. Imao sam uživanje da ga posmatram izbliza; gledao sam ga sa čuđenjem, kao neku kasicu u kojoj bi se nalazili milioni i kraljevski dijamanti, razmišljajući o svemu što je izišlo iz tog čoveka, koji je tada sedeo pored mene na jednoj maloj stolici, i stalno upirući oči u njegovu desnu ruku, koja je napisala toliko lepih stvari. A to je, međutim, bio čovek zbog koga mi je najviše zakucalo srce otkad sam na svetu, i možda čovek koga sam najviše voleo od svih onih koje ne poznajem. Govorilo se o pogubljenjima, o osvetama, o lopovima, itd. Taj veliki čovek i ja upravo smo najviše razgovarali; ne sećam se više da li sam rekao pametne stvari ili glupe, ali sam ih rekao prilično mnogo. – Sestri, Pariz januara 1843.

Today I bought a small Frosty. This may not seem significant, but the fact is: I'm lactose intolerant. Purchasing a small Frosty, then, is no different than hiring someone to beat me. No different in essence. The only difference, which may or may not be essential, is that, during my torture, I am gazing upon your beautiful employees.

Today I raised your letter hastily to my lips, and it set my teeth on edge.

To you I shall say, as I have often said before, do not be in a hurry, the right man will come at last; you will in the course of the next two or three years meet with somebody more generally unexceptionable than anyone you have yet known, who will love you as warmly as possible, and who will so completely attract you that you will feel you never really loved before.

Together they will spend a happy hour seated side by side..., while Ivy's tender hand guides Duffy's as he traces out laboriously, in pencil, over and over until he has them off pat, the magic letters of his name. More than the wedding itself, that little ceremony there under the lamp, all silent save for the soft scratching of graphite on paper, will mark the true beginning of their life together.

To write is human, to get mail, Divine!

To my babies, Merry Christmas. I'm sorry if these letters have caught you both by surprise. There is just so much more I have to say. I know you thought I was done giving advice, but I couldn't leave without reiterating a few things in writing. You may not relate to these things now, but someday you will. I wasn't able to be around forever, but I hope that my words can be. -Don't stop making basagna. Basagna is good. Wait until a day when there is no bad news, and bake a damn basagna. -Find a balance between head and heart. Hopefully you've found that Lake, and you can help Kel sort it out when he gets to that point. -Push your boundaries, that's what they're there for. -I'm stealing this snippet from your favorite band, Lake. "Always remember there is nothing worth sharing, like the love that let us share our name." -Don't take life too seriously. Punch it in the face when it needs a good hit. Laugh at it. -And Laugh a lot. Never go a day without laughing at least once. -Never judge others. You both know good and well how unexpected events can change who a person is. Always keep that in mind. You never know what someone else is experiencing within their own life. -Question everything. Your love, your religion, your passions. If you don't have questions, you'll never find answers. -Be accepting. Of everything. People's differences, their similarities, their choices, their personalities. Sometimes it takes a variety to make a good collection. The same goes for people. -Choose your battles, but don't choose very many. -Keep an open mind; it's the only way new things can get in. -And last but not least, not the tiniest bit least. Never regret. Thank you both for giving me the best years of my life. Especially the last one. Love, Mom

To write is human, to get mail: Devine!

To write is human, to receive a letter: Devine!

We had a great time hanging out with the nerdy girls of that suite and pretending to be so depressed and in pain. The problem was, you were never pretending

Two words. Three vowels. Four constenants. Seven letters. It can either cut you open to the core and leave you in ungodly pain or it can free your soul and lift a tremendous weight off you shoulders. The phrase is: It's over.

We are loved way more by some of the people who have not contacted us in the last twelve or so months than we are loved by some of those who contact us every twelve or so days … or hours.

We have had for breakfast, toasts, cakes, a yorkshire pie, a piece of beef about the size and much the shape of my portmanteau, tea, coffee, ham and eggs...

Twitter actually may be improving its users’ writing, as it forces them to wring meaning from fewer letters.

We are like children who look at print and see a serpent in the last letter but one, and a sword in the last.

We lay aside letters never to read them again, and at last destroy them out of discretion, and so disappears the most beautiful, the most immediate breath of life, irrecoverably for ourselves and for others.

What’s left of what your body was —once the girl with bare shoulder blades , giggling, once the girl galloping an imaginary horse, once the girl sleeping in her sequined red dress— was now ash in a jar. Grains of bone. But then, I knew it wasn’t you anymore. You were somewhere more.

What a good-for-nothing-fellow Charles is to bespeak the stockings - I hope he will be too hot all the rest of his life for it! -

What dangerous machines letters are. Perhaps it is as well that they are going out of fashion. A letter can be endlessly reread and reinterpreted, it stirs imagination and fantasy, it persists, it is red-hot evidence. It was a long time since I had received anything resembling a love letter.

What's this one, Mum? There's no return address, and there's like, five stamps on it. Who's it from?" Leaning forward to get a closer look at the stamps, I didn't notice the fleeting look of immense sadness pass over her face. "Oh it's nothing, darling." I raised my eyebrow at her. She sighed. "An overseas friend. You wouldn't know her." And before I could ask what 'her' name was, Mum had left the room.

When fall comes to town, lovers, letters, and leaves reunite on the sidewalks, broken, burnt, and brown.

What would I wish for the one who is mine? I would wish him a good, knowledgeable sense, a resilient gut, and the capability for survival. Wrong... it is not enough just to survive... To the one who is mine, I would also wish faith that will renew and heal him from the pains of existence.

When I am all alone, I often, very often, say your name aloud…

When you come home, darling, I shant have your letters, but I shall have yourself, which is more-- oh more, and better, than I can even think! I sit here with my little whip, cracking the time away, 'till not an hour is left of it- then you are here! And joy is here-- joy now and forevermore! Tis only a few days, Susie, it will soon go away, yet I say, "go now, this very moment, for I need her- I must have her, oh, give her to me!" Sometimes when I do feel so, I think it may be wrong, and that God will punish me by taking you away; for He is very kind to let me write to you, and to give me your sweet letters, but my heart wants more.

When I told the therapist that the “me” that I am now is the best me I can be, I was truthful. I’ve always given you my best, so when you say it's not enough, it chips away at the “best me.

Why not fall in love with an artist? Otherwise there are no letters, pictures, paintings and songs for you when you wake up.

Where are you now? How are the nymphs? I suppose they have led you a fine dance.

where was I? in remarking that me is the envelopes and not nearly so much so, the often foolish letters inside.

Who loves you most, and loves you best, and thinks of you when others rest? 'Tis Emilie.

Wine isn’t strong enough. It’s blood I want.

When you put a thing on paper, sometimes you discover you already know the answer. Or maybe that there is no answer, which is the same thing.

Wild animals, that is what we are, John. You believe in man and his laws, and laws would not be necessary if we were not wild animals. Look at my cat, he does not attack you, even though you have desecrated his territory. We men, we are wild. Rabid and petulant... In a rabid dog too, one can see only – a short life.

Winter arrived with December, and the world continued to suffer the loss of the Internet and most forms of communication. Supply chains were disrupted. The only mass form of personal communication was the letter, and postal workers were having their worst year ever, as they were actually meeded. Food was becoming scarcer and more expensive, as was fuel for vehicles and heating. Major cities experienced riots on a regular basis, spurred on by religious fervor and want. Civilization was on the brink of collapse.

With symbols you have connected the two worlds, the visible and the invisible.

Writing doesn't hurt anymore for I've somehow convinced myself that you're never going to read everything I've written for you...

Working for OSHA is a horrible job to have. You have to ignore the whistle blowers and send them illegal letters saying that you cannot find any problems. I have a lot of those fraudulent letters, as I have been through OSHA twice. Once as the utility company employee and once as the utility company subcontractor employee. It is a disgusting & blatently corrupt system.

Write like you speak with the 'rhythms of human speech,' as William Zinsser said, and in as few words as possible. Use action verbs to carry water.

Words - especially written ones, meant only for us - have a power to comfort, tell truths, and communicate profound emotions in a way that few things can.

Yes, I miss you, I miss you.