Best 182 quotes in «letter quotes» category

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

A letter to the beloved is like the ink kissing the paper. (Une lettre à l'aimée, c'est - L'encre embrassant le papier)

All the same, I'm sure that if one is brave then recovery comes from within, through complete acceptance of suffering and death, and through the surrender of one's will and love of self. But that's no good to me, I like to paint, to see people and things and everything that makes our life—artificial, if you like. Yes, real life would be something else, but I don't think I belong to that category of souls who are ready to live, and also ready to suffer, at any moment.

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.

A love letter can be very short or it can be long; it can be literary or non-literary; it can be bright or dark, cheerful or tragic. But above all, for a love letter to be a love letter it must be sincere!

And then, tired out by all the shouting, I always simply went to bed. Today I’m doing it to feel the pleasure you don’t yet know, of turning abruptly from friendship to love, from strength to tenderness. Tonight I love you in a way that you have not known in me: I am neither worn down by travels nor wrapped up in the desire for your presence. I am mastering my love for you and turning it inwards as a constituent element of myself.

And this letter I didn't send how surprising to find it now. All this love I must have felt.

A poetess is not as selfish as you assume. After months of agonising over her marriage of words—the bride— and spaces—the groom, she knows that as soon as she has penned the poem, it’s yours to consume. So, without giving it a think, she blows on the ink and the letters fly away like dandelions on a windy day, landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips. But more often than not, you can easily spot them trodden and forgotten, becoming sodden and rotten. Yet, she will continue to make what’s others to take because selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.

As the Siamese says: "Pea rattles loud in empty head".

As usual, it struck me that letters were the only really satisfactory form of literature. They give one the facts so amazingly, don't they? I felt when I got to the end that I'd lived for years in that set. But oh dearie me I am glad that I'm not in it!

Based on what I saw in my disability hearing, my lawyer won my case. It was very surprising to receive the disability denial letter several months later.

Banyak sekali sifat yang baik pada bangsa saya. Banyak sekali keindahan di dalam kepercayaannya yang menarik dan kekanak-kanakan. Barangkali kedengarannya aneh, namun walaupun demikian hal itu adalah suatu kenyataan. Kalian Bangsa Eropah telah mengajar saya mencintai tanah air dan bangsa saya sendiri. Pendidikan Eropah justru mendekatkan kami kepada bangsa kami dan tidak menjauhkannya. Membuka mata dan hati kami untuk melihat keindahan tanah air dan bangsa. Dan juga keperluannya yang mendesak melihat tempat-tempat lukanya. Kami sangat mencintai negeri dan bangsa kami! Aduhai! Seandainya kami suatu ketika dapat berbuat sesuatu untuk membantu mendatangkan kebahagiaan bagi mereka, maka alangkah bahagia kami.

Belajar pada usia yang matang ada pulalah keuntungannya. Kami sekarang mengerti jauh lebih baik dan memahami segala sesuatu. Dan banyak hal yang dulu bagi kami mati sekarang menjadi hidup. Kami tertarik terhadap sangat banyak hal yang dulu tidak kami pedulikan, semata-mata hanyalah karena kami tidak mengerti. Alangka bahagia kami, apa bila sekarang ada seseorang yang dapat menerangkan hal-hal yang sangat menarik itu kepada kami. Guru-guru yang diam itu sekarang harus menjawab semuapertanyaan kami. Hari ini ada "bahasa". Anak-anak heran melihat apa yang kami lakukan, mereka tidak dapat mengerti apa yang kami lakukan. Aduhai! Bilakah saat yang bahagia itu akhirnya akan tiba, saat dimana bagi dunia kami boleh memeluk studi sebagai pengantin kami.

And so this letter ends with no sadness: my feet are firm upon the earth, my hand writes this letter on the road, and in the midst of life I shall be always beside the friend, facing the enemy, with your name on my mouth and a kiss that never broke away from yours.

And you can't see around corners. so you just have to deal with it, and try to stay afloat. And things get tough. And you're supposed to grow up. And it's all a bunch of bullshit. Sorry.

...and you will hold me with your wondering eyes in the serenity of purest mind at the dreams edge of my quiet golden shores accompanied by the melodies of emerald blue rippling waves where I will always remain voicing harmony in the over the rainbow soothing memories of your heart...

An entire conversation in a kiss.

Apa yang lebih menyedihkan daripada kehidupan kanak-kanak yang sengsara, apa yang lebih sengsara daripada anak-anak yang semuda itu harus menanggung kepahitan hidup? Dan gadis-gadis terutama sangat susah hidupnya, karena mereka telah berada di tempat dimana alam setiap hari diperkosa. Bukankah itu memperkosa kodrat alam namanya, apabila perempuan harus tinggal dengan damai serumah dengan madunya? Sungguh, anak bangsa itu sendiri, orang perempuan harus memperdengarkan suaranya! Masih akan dapatkah dengan tenang orang mengatakan "keadaan mereka baik" kalau orang melihat dan mengetahui semuanya, yang telah kami lihat dan kami ketahui itu?

A smile is a song from the heart; a tear is a letter from the soul.

...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.

Bagaimanapun jalannya, sekali-kali jangan lelah untuk berusaha gigih membela semua yang baik.

Bangsa Jawa itu bangsa dongeng dan kenang-kenangan. Siapakah yang pada suatu ketika akan mengantarkan bangsa itu dari dunia hikayat dan legenda ke kehidupan yang nyata? Bukankah kita harus menuju ke situ? Dan dengan menyingkirkan takhayul itu, tidak perlulah karenanya mereka menginjak-injak keindahannya.

[But] I have come across anything so painfully beautiful as that kiss. I wish it was something I could save and share with the world so I could tell the universe: this is what it's like; this is how it feels when you fall.

By the time you read this letter, these words will be those of the past. The me of now is gone.

Clary, Despite everything, I can't bear the thought of this ring being lost forever, any more then I can bear the thought of leaving you forever. And though I have no choice about the one, at least I can choose about the other. I'm leaving you our family ring because you have as much right to it as I do. I'm writing this watching the sun come up. You're asleep, dreams moving behind your restless eyelids. I wish I knew what you were thinking. I wish I could slip into your head and see the world the way you do. I wish I could see myself the way you do. But maybe I dont want to see that. Maybe it would make me feel even more than I already do that I'm perpetuating some kind of Great Lie on you, and I couldn't stand that. I belong to you. You could do anything you wanted with me and I would let you. You could ask anything of me and I'd break myself trying to make you happy. My heart tells me this is the best and greatest feeling I have ever had. But my mind knows the difference between wanting what you can't have and wanting what you shouldn't want. And I shouldn't want you. All night I've watched you sleeping, watched the moonlight come and go, casting its shadows across your face in black and white. I've never seen anything more beautiful. I think of the life we could have had if things were different, a life where this night is not a singular event, separate from everything else that's real, but every night. But things aren't different, and I can't look at you without feeling like I've tricked you into loving me. The truth no one is willing to say out loud is that no one has a shot against Valentine but me. I can get close to him like no one else can. I can pretend I want to join him and he'll believe me, up until that last moment where I end it all, one way or another. I have something of Sebastian's; I can track him to where my father's hiding, and that's what I'm going to do. So I lied to you last night. I said I just wanted one night with you. But I want every night with you. And that's why I have to slip out of your window now, like a coward. Because if I had to tell you this to your face, I couldn't make myself go. I don't blame you if you hate me, I wish you would. As long as I can still dream, I will dream of you. _Jace

Classic Ballet, Keep away, keep building your creaky fairy castles, keep cloning clones and meaningless manners, hang on to your beanstalk ballerinas and their midget male shadows, run yourself out of business with your tons of froufrou and costly clattery toe shoes that ruin all chances for illusions of lightness, keep on crowding the minds of blind balletomanes who prefer dainty poses to the eloquent strength of momentum, who have forgotten or never known the manings of gesture, who would nod their noses to barefoot embargos ("so grab me" spelt backwards). Continue to repolish your stiff technique and to ignore a public that hungers for something other than a bag of tricks and the empty-headedness of surface patterns. Just keep it up, keep imitating yourself, and, , go grow your own dance makers. Come on, don't keep trying to filter modern ones through your so-safe extablishment. We're to be seen undiluted, undistorted, not absorbed by your hollow world like blood into a sponge. Yours truly, A Different Leaf on Our Family Tree

Dear Camryn, I never wanted it to be this way. I wanted to tell you these things myself, but I was afraid. I was afraid that if I told you out loud that I loved you, that what we had together would die with me. The truth is that I knew in Kansas that you were the one. I’ve loved you since that day when I first looked up into your eyes as you glared down at me from over the top of that bus seat. Maybe I didn’t know it then, but I knew something had happened to me in that moment and I could never let you go. I have never lived the way I lived during my short time with you. For the first time in my life, I’ve felt whole, alive, free. You were the missing piece of my soul, the breath in my lungs, the blood in my veins. I think that if past lives are real then we have been lovers in every single one of them. I’ve known you for a short time, but I feel like I’ve known you forever. I want you to know that even in death I’ll always remember you. I’ll always love you. I wish that things could’ve turned out differently. I thought of you many nights on the road. I stared up at the ceiling in the motels and pictured what our life might be like together if I had lived. I even got all mushy and thought of you in a wedding dress and even with a mini me in your belly. You know, I always heard that sex is great when you’re pregnant. ;-) But I’m sorry that I had to leave you, Camryn. I’m so sorry…I wish the story of Orpheus and Eurydice was real because then you could come to the Underworld and sing me back into your life. I wouldn’t look back. I wouldn’t fuck it up like Orpheus did. I’m so sorry, baby… I want you to promise me that you’ll stay strong and beautiful and sweet and caring. I want you to be happy and find someone who will love you as much as I did. I want you to get married and have babies and live your life. Just remember to always be yourself and don’t be afraid to speak your mind or to dream out loud. I hope you’ll never forget me. One more thing: don’t feel bad for not telling me that you loved me. You didn’t need to say it. I knew all along that you did. Love Always, Andrew Parrish

… Could I return, I will not say to revel, but breath this sky, under which I was born: to rejoice with sea views and gardens; to consol me with your kindness; to drink this wine or this water, that might reduce my illness…

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

Dear my older brother, I understand you love me, that you care for your little sister. I remember you beat up a bully once on the bus, and how you kept that frightening image of youself for the sake of my safety. I remember how ever since we were young and I cried, you would go out of your way to make me calm down.When you found out who I liked, you would secretly interrogate their older siblings to figure out what this guy was like. But you don't need to worry anymore. That was almost a decade ago. You're an adult now. I'm not yours to baby anymore, because soon I'll be an adult too. Love, Your little sister

Dear S, I guess it's too late now. You're off doing what you always told me you've dreamed of doing, and I'm here doing what my parents have always dreamed I'd end up doing. I guess being childhood friends doesn't guarantee staying together. I regret not telling you that I loved you. But I'm not writing this to have my feelings returned. No, I'm writing this to let you know that I'll probably never tell you. I'm writing this because I know I'll never get the courage, let alone the chance, to tell you because you're so far away now. Hey, on the off chance that telepathy works or that you have powers to know everything, I want you to know that I love you -- not just as a childhood friend, but as someone I want to marry.

{Debbs' letter to Robert Ingersoll's granddaughter} I was the friend of your immortal grandfather and I loved him truly… the name of Ingersoll is revered in our home, worshipped by us all, and the date of birth is holy in our calendar... I have never loved another mortal as I have loved Robert Green Ingersoll.

Demikianlah kepercayaan rakyat! Darimana asal kepercayaan ini, saya tidak tahu dengan pasti.

Destiny doesn't always come when it's convenient or when you think it should. It comes when you're ready, whether you know it or not.

Don’t keep people in hatred. You might lose that very person who should endorse your next appointment letter if you are a skillful hater of people. Let love lead

Dünyada benim ihtiyaç duyduğum kadar sabır var mı Milena?

Dunia ini masih senantiasa teramat sopan. Tidak mau melihat kenyataan yang telanjang bulat. Memalingkan muka dengan penuh rasa jijik dari kenyataan, perempuan telanjang itu.

Echo of the waves appears in the sky, their lights reflected in your eyes. I'm back in our world and happy again. The sound of your voice, compassionate embrace... The power in your touch, serenity of stride... The beating of your heart calms down my presence, gracing with eternal peace of mind... Bathing in the sunshine of your arms I'm deeply aware of the melodic stream that has no language...gliding beneath the quiet Heaven of your eyes...

Es wäre natürlich ganz und gar verfehlt, das aufzuschreiben, worüber Margot und ich halbe Tage und Nächte lang reden, so intensiv und ehrlich von beiden Seiten, dass man sich fast um Kopf und Kragen redet. (Brief an Klaus Mann, 23. Juli 1940)

Even when not in the act of writing Muscatine a letter, I was often composing one in my mind, situating the words just so, plunking one here, then one there, gauging how to sound worthy of his regard.

Every beat of my heart is a love letter to you...

Every evening I receive A letter like a bride To my friend I give Response late at night. "I'll be guest of the white death On my journey down. You, my tender one, don't do Harm to anyone." And there stands a giant star Between two wood beams, With such calmness promising To fulfil your dreams.

For I have nothing to lean on, nowhere to call my home and there is nowhere I will go for Christmas to rest my head and touch familiar walls. I have no degree to show on paper or employment to take care of my health or the reassurance that I can pay my rent. And I have no right to complain because this is the road I choose and I built it myself, not really knowing where I wanted it to lead, but I have hope in all things ahead and behind and I am learning to let myself go. Forget my own ego and believe that what I am doing is grander than my very own self.

Gold makes monsters of men.

Growing older is a blurred birth certificate that only can take us to this world’s perplexed journey, but it cannot smear the letters of the epitaph

He pictured the smile he would have drawn on her lips had she read his words, had her heart kept on beating for one more day. He was perching on the edge of his town jetty thinking about the memories he had with her there, as a droplet of his tears became indistinguishable amongst the ocean of water beneath his feat.

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.

dear laurence, thankyou for your gorgeous and charming letter, you brighten up my dim life. i read the whole fucking thing, dear. of course, i'd love to see you in your black dress and your white socks too. but most of all i want to see you take a deep breath and do whatever you must to survive and find something to be that you can love. you're obviously a bright fucking chick, w/ a big heart too and i want to wish you a (belated) HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY 21st b'day and happy spirit. i was very miserable and fighting hard on my 21st b'day, too. people booed me on the stage, and i was staying in someone else's house and i was scared. it's been a long road since then, but pressure never ends in this life. 'perforation problems' by the way means to me also the holes that will always exist in any story we try to make of our lives. so hang on, my love, and grow big and strong and take your hits and keep going. all my love to a really beautiful girl. that's you laurence. iggy pop

Dear Madam Vorsoisson, I am sorry. This is the eleventh draft of this letter. They’ve all started with those three words, even the horrible version in rhyme, so I guess they stay. You once asked me never to lie to you. All right, so. I’ll tell you the truth now even if it isn’t the best or cleverest thing, and not abject enough either. I tried to be the thief of you, to ambush and take prisoner what I thought I could never earn or be given. You were not a ship to be hijacked, but I couldn’t think of any other plan but subterfuge and surprise. Though not as much of a surprise as what happened at dinner. The revolution started prematurely because the idiot conspirator blew up his secret ammo dump and lit the sky with his intentions. Sometimes these accidents end in new nations, but more often they end badly, in hangings and beheadings. And people running into the night. I can’t be sorry that I asked you to marry me, because that was the one true part in all the smoke and rubble, but I’m sick as hell that I asked you so badly. Even though I’d kept my counsel from you, I should have at least had the courtesy to keep it from others as well, till you’d had the year of grace and rest you’d asked for. But I became terrified that you’d choose another first. So I used the garden as a ploy to get near you. I deliberately and consciously shaped your heart’s desire into a trap. For this I am more than sorry, I am ashamed. You’d earned every chance to grow. I’d like to pretend I didn’t see it would be a conflict of interest for me to be the one to give you some of those chances, but that would be another lie. But it made me crazy to watch you constrained to tiny steps, when you could be outrunning time. There is only a brief moment of apogee to do that, in most lives. I love you. But I lust after and covet so much more than your body. I wanted to possess the power of your eyes, the way they see form and beauty that isn’t even there yet and draw it up out of nothing into the solid world. I wanted to own the honor of your heart, unbowed in the vilest horrors of Komarr. I wanted your courage and your will, your caution and your serenity. I wanted, I suppose, your soul, and that was too much to want. I wanted to give you a victory. But by their essential nature triumphs can’t be given. They must be taken, and the worse the odds and the fiercer the resistance, the greater the honor. Victories can’t be gifts. But gifts can be victories, can’t they. It’s what you said. The garden could have been your gift, a dowry of talent, skill, and vision. I know it’s too late now, but I just wanted to say, it would have been a victory most worthy of our House. Yours to command, Miles Vorkosigan

Dear Margot, You say that we had to break up because you don't want to go to college with a boyfriend, and you want your freedom, and you don't want to be held back. But you know and I know that's not the real reason You broke up with me because we had sex anf you were scared of getting close to me. Josh