The Love Letter Lane Library

Oh God,How you Make me Feel!!!

2009-11-24T06:11:00.000-08:00

The following letter was submitted to Love Letter Lane by Faith:

I'm writing this to you in order for you to see how much I really love you.

You are the one! The only one for me! Your smile melts my heart. Your voice makes me tingle with happiness. Every time we touch, I feel like I'm flying! Your kisses send sparks of pure pleasure throughout my whole body. I'm not afraid to share my deepest thoughts and secrets with you, because I know I can trust you. Every time you and I are away from each other I feel like a part of me has died. Every time I see you sick, my stomach gets upset and I feel like crying.

I love you with ALL my heart.

Your darling sweety pie
Faith

kevin harling's love letter

2009-11-24T06:07:00.000-08:00

The following letter was submitted to Love Letter Lane by Kevin (Pt 6 of "The Muse Conversations."):

Like two holy temples, sacred, tenements to the faith we have both sacrificed so much for, two red blood hearts swaying in unison, a single wave upon an ocean sky of powder perfect blue,
together, hands held with delicate grace, sheltered, loving and finding ways to caress anew.

This dreamland of blushing clouds, a sky that whispers sweet french kisses, the air full of tongues and fingers probing eternity, seeking pleasure through linen lines of silk, this haven from all that disrupts, this home of utter tranquility, this is where you have brought me my dear.

High above the rocky turbulent world, soaring with falcons, carefree and laughing, this language of a love that is above earthly love, angel love, flying on wings made by Cupid himself, floating
here among the turrets of emerald towers.

I am walking on puffy white clouds, barefooted and sensing only you, I eat your chalice of golden worship, adorned by thoughts of truth and sincerity, nothing can sway me, no winds can take you away, you are boundless, free and walking within me.

Days meld into minutes, into hours the seconds I photograph with subtle words, into sentences professing my enamoured heart, you are a black pearl, an elegant albatross, you rise before every dawn and set with all my hopes, you are my pillow down, my softest hello.

Like two holy temples, eroding time with outstretched columns reaching for one another, lifting
each other up with mouths that can never be satiated, with fingers that when locked cannot be torn asunder, you drift towards me never away, edging deeper and deeper into my flesh.

This is the world you have created, your genesis, your beginning that has no end, for these words will live forever, this ethereal wonderland of longing to be closer than close, and no matter how far it is always near, for I carry you like my breath always within, my lungs announce you, my lips speak only of you, forever.

The Letter

2009-11-24T06:00:00.000-08:00

The following letter was submitted to Love Letter Lane by Kevin (part of an ongoing dialogue entitled "The Muse Conversations." This is called , "The Letter."):

How can I translate upon this page love's virtue, how is it possible to give a voice to my heart that you have so fully inebriated with laurel, how when the wind whispers it is your song it warms and plants upon my lips.

My darling, the days minutes trace your outline, every centimeter of your silhouette framed like a masterpiece, the seconds like paint keenly brush stroked upon the canvas you have so gracefully decreed to my possession. If I am to be its caretaker then I accept the honour willingly. I feel the passion swell within me, engorging every facet of my being, my mind races in circles shaped like heartbeats, fluttering your sweet name. My love time stands still and holds your hand, it writes each letter of your name with the most beautiful calligraphy ever handcrafted. You are more perfect than a rose, every petal equally proportioned and imbued with divinity. I take steps back in awe of your cherry blossom cheeks, your iridescent eyes that make me forget the minute that just swept by, and yet even there you linger. My sweetheart our flesh is interwoven, together the tapestry sheds its silk in passionate lines, every letter belonging to this union that beams with sunshine. You are the blue sky swimming, the leaves of autumn that bleed crimson kisses, the winter white of every snow angel made with love.

You are love my dear, so please do not ask me to translate love's virtue, let me just nestle upon your brow like a butterfly and soak in your radiance, let me sleep under your bedroom eyes aquamarine and dream of nothing else.

The whole world deserves to see why I love you

2009-11-24T05:55:00.000-08:00

The following letter was submitted to Love Letter Lane by Kristi:

My Love,

I'll never forget the first day I saw you…

Your reticent, silent behavior was what drew me to you. In a world full of anticipation and thrill, every time I saw you, my heart defeated my chest, and animation came over my entire body. I was breathing for a reason...and I knew it. I gave up sleep to finish time with you and I wouldn't change any of it. You have altered my life dramatically and as I gaze at the past four years, I love you more with each sunset. I may not always be great to you, but at the end of each day, I am so thankful that God brought you into my life. For a million reasons, he brought you and I together, and though sometimes I had worries and let things get in the way because of fear, I'm past that now.

With passion in my heart, love on my sleeve, and that smile on your face, it's hard not to love you.

Love~

Truly, Lovely

2009-11-24T05:48:00.000-08:00

The following letter was submitted to Love Letter Lane by Greg:

I love the anticipation of knowing that I will see you soon. I love that I can see myself sharing so many special moments with you and have had so many moments that I would love to relive over and over again.

I love that I miss you simply because “you truly matter to me”. I love that I found you without looking and am careful with you so that you will stay.

I love discovering you physically; that you want me to. I love the smell and taste of you. I love that it's so hard not to touch you when we're together and that it’s always so hard to leave.

I love that I can't keep from smiling whenever I look at a picture of you and do things for you just so that I can see you smile because of me.

I love that losing you scares me and the possibility of a future with you encourages me.

I love that it’s so easy to be proud of you; for all that you have and will accomplish.

Before meeting you, I had never described anyone as being “incredible”. I love that now, I have.

You are truly, lovely.

That first fateful day

2009-02-10T21:32:00.000-08:00

Beautiful eyes and an amazing smile is what I saw that day – that first fateful day -- when I walked in the room and saw you for the first time. Ah, man… I think it truly was love at first sight. You were (I knew it!) my one and only true love in the whole world; I knew it and it only took a single glance!

And you are just as beautiful today (maybe more) as you were that day.

Pretty, natural, sweet – I could tell (even though we never met). I wanted to walk over and talk to you – even kiss you. But I was shy. I couldn’t bring myself (at first), but I’m so glad I did, because my life would not have been (dramatic pause) half as good without you.

I would not trade a second (not the good times and not even the bad times).

You are amazing… every moment with you has been amazing. You have been (and are) just right for me.

You’re the perfect blend of sweet, pretty and tender. You’re smart, humble, loving, and caring! Perhaps the most caring person I ever met. You’re everything I want—everything I need.

You were (and are) the girl for me: today, tomorrow, and forever!

Thank you for loving me

2008-11-27T08:22:00.000-08:00

I never thanked you for these things.

Thank you for dinner last night
Thank you for smiling when I enter the room
Thank you for peeling the potatoes
Thank you for loving our children
Thank you for making yourself so pretty - everyday
Thank you for helping the kids with their homework
Thank you for filling the fruit bowl
Thank you for your patience
Thank you for your gentleness
Thank you for planning dinners
Thank you for decorating our house
Thank you for telling me when my favorite show is starting
Thank you for introducing me (and our kids) to old movies
Thank you for loving me

And most importantly, thank you for saying, "I do."

If you were a dessert

2008-11-10T10:19:00.000-08:00

You would have an austere beauty.

An inside that’s tender,
warm, mild, light and soothing.

You’d be sweet, delightful and fresh,
rich with surprise.

Your fragrance would elicit reminiscing.

You would be lovely in any season,
with any company,
with any meal.

But you’d only touch my lips if earned
with true desire and purpose,
travail worth every ounce of effort.

You’d withstand the test of time;
be granted top prize and utmost honor.

You’d always be on mind.

I’d savor every moment with you,
and I’d always want more.

You’d be my all time favorite!

You’d be Pineapple Cheesecake.

Our love and life sublime

2008-11-03T13:48:00.000-08:00

We reside so far from our dreams
and we’ll never know why, it seems.

Where will our journey lead us next
is a question much less complex.

To where we started or someplace new?
Wherever it is, I pray it’s with you.

Is “where next” the right question?
After all, it’s born from oppression.

Maybe staying put is best
as the destination of our quest.

Together, firm in this place
with the peace of God’s grace.

Perhaps a lesson to behold
is here just waiting to unfold.

To reveal something great
if we just hold on and wait.

Within reach the whole time
our love and life sublime.

Top 10 Places We've Been

2008-10-15T07:28:00.000-07:00

Close and far... laughed and cried... alone and with a crowd.

Thousands of places experienced with you, but these are the most memorable... to me.

Where would we live if we could anywhere?

2008-09-24T06:28:00.000-07:00

We’d live at the beach with an ocean breeze and an old porch with some rocking chairs you fixed up nice. They’ll have a new coat of paint and a throw blanket over the back. I can just see you sitting there – rocking, enjoying your margarita. You’re beautiful, with your hair gently catching an ocean draft, your eyes glimmering in the sun rays bouncing off the sand. Looking over the rail, you smile as you watch me approach. An old porch painted white with fencing all around and a gate that swings open easy as I wobble in from a morning bike ride.

I can’t wait to come home from that bike ride! To see you sitting there next to a fresh batch of homemade ice tea, just off the stove with ice still crackling from the stress of its encounter with boiling hot water. The sugar is melting and the lemon seeping fast.

I want to be there now, at the beach on our porch, enjoying God’s creation – the smell, the majesty of seemingly endless waters, the sand and my favorite of all God’s creations – you.

Come to think, my favorite place is next to you. Who needs the beach? Sure it’s great and it would be nice to live there one day, but beach (or no beach) as long as I’m with you – I’m happy.

Happy with you, wherever!

Why You Make Me Happy

2007-12-31T07:40:00.000-08:00

My wonderful wife,

Zest for life exudes from you, regardless of whether you’re down or not. You want so much out of life, and you don’t hesitate to go get it – even if from your sickbed, while held down for reasons out of your control. A lesser woman would not be able to show the smile that graces your face most every morning. And I must say it’s the most the beautiful smile I ever saw. One glance and I was hooked for life. Your smile and your gentleness are a wonderful match made in heaven. God drew that smile on your face and then poured gentleness in your heart. No wonder I’m so in love with you. You were made perfect by God, for me.

You have a zest for life that is contagious, a smile that melts my heart, and a gentleness that warms my soul. I love that about you and it makes me want to be with you forever.

I want to see you use that smile for 10,000 more days. I want to see you use that gentleness to touch a 1000 more souls. And I can’t wait to see where that zest takes you – to which mountains tops.

Your very happy husband,

Your Gift

2007-12-30T06:49:00.000-08:00

Dearest and rightly beloved,

You cannot tell how your gift has pleased me; or rather you can, for it shows you have a long memory back to our first meeting: though at the time I was the one who thought most of it. It is quite true; you have the most beautifully shaped memory in Christendom: these are the very books in the very edition I have long wanted, and have been too humble to afford myself. And now I cannot stop to read one, for joy of looking at them all in a row. I will kiss you for them all, and for more besides: indeed it is the ' besides' which brings you my kisses at all. Now that you have chosen so perfectly to my mind, I may proffer a request which, before, I was shy of making. It seems now beneficently anticipated. It is that you will not ever let your gifts take the form of jewelry, not after the ring which you are bringing me: that, you know, I both welcome and wish for. But, as to the rest, the world has supplied me with a feeling against jewelry as a love-symbol. Look abroad and you will see: it is too possessive, too much like ' chains of office'—the fair one is to wear her radiant harness before the world, that other women may be envious and the desire of her master's eye be satisfied ! Ah, no! I am yours, dear, utterly; and nothing you give me would have that sense: I know you too well to think it. But in the face of the present fashion (and to flout it), which expects the lover to give in this sort, and the beloved to show herself a dazzling captive, let me cherish my ritual of opposition which would have no meaning if we were in a world of our own, and no place in my thoughts, dearest;—as it has not now, so far as you are concerned. But I am conscious I shall be looked at as your chosen; and I would choose my own way of how to look back most proudly.

And so for the books more thanks and more,—that they are what I would most wish, and not anything else: which, had they been, they would still have given me pleasure, since from you they could come only with a good meaning: and— diamonds even—I could have put up with them!

To-morrow you come for your ring, and bring me my own? Yours is here waiting. I have it on my finger, very loose, with another standing sentry over it to keep it from running away.

A mouse came out of my wainscot last night, and plunged me in horrible dilemma: for I am equally idiotic over the idea of the creature trapped or free, and I saw sleepless nights ahead of me till I had secured a change of locality for him.

To startle him back into hiding would have only deferred my getting truly rid of him, so I was most tiptoe and diplomatic in my doings. Finally, a paper bag, put into a likely nook with some sentimentally preserved wedding – cake crumbled into it, crackled to me of his arrival. In a brave moment I noosed the little beast, bag and all, and lowered him from the window by string, till the shrubs took from me the burden of responsibility. I visited the bag this morning: he had eaten his way out, crumbs and all: and has, I suppose, become a fieldmouse, for the hay smells invitingly, and it is only a short run over the lawn and a jump over the ha-ha to be in it. Poor morsels, I prefer them so much un- domesticated!

Now this mouse is no allegory, and the paper bag is not a diamond necklace, in spite of the wedding-cake sprinkled over it! So don't say that this letter is too hard for your understanding, or you will frighten me from telling you anything foolish again.

Brains are like jewels in this, difference of surface has nothing to do with the size and value of them.

Yours is a beautiful smooth round, like a pearl, and mine all facets and flashes like cut glass. And yours so much the bigger and I love it so much the best! The trap which caught me was baited with one great pearl.

So the mouse comes in with a meaning tied to its tail after all!

Friendship

2007-12-30T06:48:00.000-08:00

MY FRIEND,

Do you think this a cold way of beginning? I do not: is it not the true send-off of love? I do not know how men fall in love: but I could not have had that come-down in your direction without being your friend first. Oh, my dear, and after, after; it is but a limitless friendship I have grown into! I have heard men run down the friendships of women as having little true substance. Those who speak so, I think, have never come across a real case of woman's friendship. I praise my own sex, dearest, for I know some of their loneliness, which you do not: and until a certain date their friendship was the deepest thing in life I had met with. For must it not be true that a woman becomes more absorbed in friendship than a man, since friendship may have to mean so much more to her, and cover so far more of her life, than it does to the average man ? However big a man's capacity for friendship, the beauty of it does not fill his whole horizon for the future : he still looks ahead of it for the mate who will complete his life, giving his body and soul the complement they require. Friendship alone does not satisfy him: he makes a bigger claim on life, regarding certain possessions as his right. But a woman:—oh, it is a fashion to say the best women are sure to find husbands, and have, if they care for it, the certainty before them of a full life. I know it is not so. There are women, wonderful ones, who come to know quite early in life that no men will ever wish to make wives of them: for them, then, love in friendship is all that remains, and the strongest wish of all that can pass through their souls with hope for its fulfillment is to be a friend to somebody. It is man's arrogant certainty of his future which makes him impatient of the word ' friendship ‘: it cools life to his lips, he so confident that the headier nectar is his due!

“You are my share of the world, also my share of Heaven.”

I came upon a little phrase the other day that touched me so deeply: it said so well what I have wanted to say since we have known each other. Some peasant rhymer, an Irishman, is singing his love's praises, and sinks his voice from the height of his passionate superlatives to call her his ' share of the world.' Peasant and Irishman, he knew that his fortune did not embrace the universe: but for him his love was just that—his share of the world.

Surely when in any one's friendship we seem to have gained our share of the world, that is all that can be said. It means all that we can take in, the whole armful the heart and senses are capable of, or that fate can bestow. And for how many that must be friendship—especially for how many women!

My dear, you are my share of the world, also my share of Heaven: but there I begin to speak of what I do not know, as is the way with happy humanity. All that my eyes could dream of waking or sleeping, all that my ears could be most glad to hear, all that my heart could beat faster to get hold of—your friendship gave me suddenly as a bolt from the blue.

My friend, my friend, my friend! If you could change or go out of my life now, the sun would drop out of my heavens: I should see the world with a great piece gashed out of its side,—my share of it gone. No, I should not see it, I don't think I should see anything ever again,—not truly. Is it not strange how often to test our happiness we harp on sorrow? I do: don't let it weary you. I know I have read somewhere that great love always entails pain. I have not found it yet: but, for me, it does mean fear,—the sort of fear I had as a child going into big buildings. I loved them: but I feared, because of their bigness, they were likely to tumble on me. But when I begin to think you may be too big for me, I remember you as my ' friend,' and the fear goes for a time, or becomes that sort of fear I would not part with if I might.

I have no news for you: only the old things to tell you, the wonder of which ever remains new. How holy your face has become to me: as I saw it has something more than the usual proofs of love for me upon it—a look as if your love troubled you! I know the trouble: I feel it, dearest, in my own woman's way. Have patience. – When I see you so, I feel that prayer is the only way given me for saying what my love for you wishes to be. And yet I hardly ever pray in words.

Dearest, be happy when you get this: and, when you can, come and give my happiness its rest. Till then it is a watchman on the lookout.

Night-night! Your true sleepy one.

THE letters?

2007-12-30T06:47:00.000-08:00

No, Beloved, I could not! Not yet. There you have caught me where I own I am still shy of you. A long time hence, when we are a safely wedded pair, you shall turn them over. It may be a short time; but I will keep them however long. Indeed I must ever keep them; they talk to me of the dawn of my existence,—the early light before our sun rose, when my love of you was growing and had not yet reached its full. If I disappoint you I will try to make up for it with something I wrote long before I ever saw you. To-day I was turning over old things my mother had treasured for me of my childhood—of days spent with her: things of laughter as well as of tears; such a dear selection, so quaint and sweet, with moods of her as I dimly remember her to have been. And among them was this absurdity, written, and I suppose placed in the mouth of my stocking, the Christmas I stayed with her in

France

. I remember the time as a great treat, but nothing of this. ‘Nilgoes ' is ' Nicholas,’ you must understand! How he must have laughed over me asleep while he read this!

‘Cher père Nilgoes. S'il vous plait voulez vous me donné plus de jeux que des oranges des pommes et des pombons parc que nous allons faire l'arbre de noel cette anné et les jeaux ferait mieux pour l'arbre de Noel. Il ne faut pas dire à petite mère s'il vous plait parce que je ne veut pas quelle sache sil vous voulez venir ce soir du ceil pour que vous pouvez me donner ce que je vous demande Dites bon jour à la St. Viearge est à l'enfant Jeuscs et à Ste Joseph. Adieu cher St. Nilgoes.'

I haven't altered the spelling, I love it too well, prophetic of a fault I still carry about me. How strange that little bit of invocation to the dear folk above sounds to me now! My mother must have been teaching me things after her own persuasion; most naturally, poor dear one—though that too has gone like water off my mind. It was one of the troubles between her and my father: the compact that I was to be brought up a Catholic was dissolved after they separated; and I am sorry, thinking it unjust to her; yet glad, content with being what I am. I must have been less than five when I penned this: I was always a letter- writer, it seems. It is a reproach now from many that I have ceased to be: and to them I fear it is true. That I have not truly ceased, ' witness under my hand these presents,'—or whatever may be the proper legal terms for an affidavit. What were you like, Beloved, as a very small child? Should I have loved you from the beginning had we toddled to the reencounter; and would my love have passed safely through the 'gallous young hound' period; and could I love you more now in any case, had I all your days treasured up in my heart, instead of less than a year of them? How strangely much have seven miles kept our fates apart! It seems un- characteristic for this small world,—where meetings come about so far above the dreams of average—to have played us such a prank.

This must do for this once, Beloved; for behold me busy to-day: with what, I shall not tell you. I would like to put you to a test, as ladies did their knights of old, and hardly ever do now — fearing, I suppose, lest the species should altogether fail them at the pinch. I would like to see if you could come here and sit with me from beginning to end, with your eyes shut: never once opening them. I am not saying whether I think curiosity, or affection, would make the attempt too difficult. But if you were sure you could, you might come here to-morrow—a day otherwise interdicted. Only know, having come, that if you open those dear cupboards of vision and set eyes on things not yet intended to be looked at, there will be confusion of tongues in this Tower we are building whose top is to reach heaven. Will you come? I don't say ' come'; I only want to know— will you?

To-day my love flies low over the earth like a swallow before rain, and touching the tops of the flowers has culled you these. Kiss them until they open: they are full of my thoughts, as the world, to me, is full of you.

Without A Metaphor

2007-12-30T06:43:00.000-08:00

DEAREST,

Did you find your letter? The quicker I post, the quicker I need to sit down and write again. The grass under love's feet never stops growing: I must make hay of it while the sun shines. You say my metaphors make you giddy.—My dear, you, without a metaphor in your composition, do that to me! So it is not for you to complain; your curses simply fly back to roost. Where do you pigeon-hole them? In a pie? (I mean to write now until I have made you as giddy as a dancing dervish!) Your letters are much more like blackbirds: and I have a pie of them here, twenty-four at least; and when I open it they sing ' Chewee, chewee, chewee!' in the most scared way! Your last but three said most solemnly, just as if you meant it, ' I hope you don't keep these miserables! Though I fill up my hollow hours with them, there is no reason why they should fill up yours.' You added that I was better occupied— and here I am ' better occupied ' even as you bid me. But one can jump best from a springboard: and how could I j ump as far as your arms by letter, if I had not yours to jump from?

So you see they are kept, and my disobedience of you has begun: and I find disobedience wonderfully sweet. But then, you gave me a law which you knew I should disobey:—that is the way the world began. It is not for nothing that I am a daughter of Eve. And here is our world in our hands, yours and mine, now in the making. Which day are the evening and the morning now? I think it must be the birds'—and already, with the wings, disobedience has been reached! Make much of it! The day will come when I shall wish to obey. There are moments when I feel a wish taking hold of me stronger than I can understand, that you should command me beyond myself — to things I have not strength or courage for of my own accord. How close, dearest, when that day comes, my heart will feel itself to yours! It feels close now: but it is to your feet I am nearest, as yet. Lift me!

There, there, Beloved, I kiss you with all my will. Oh, dear heart, forgive me for being no more than I am: your freehold to all eternity.

News Of Arrival

2007-12-30T06:41:00.000-08:00

January 29 1847,

ANGELA MIA,

I arrived here safely, have patrolled everything, and convinced myself to my sorrow that I have come too soon, as usual. The ice on the Elbe is still firm, and everything is in the best order. I seize a half-hour of leisure, in a very bad tavern, to write you on very bad paper, if only a few words. I caught a hasty glimpse of my brother and Malvine, and found them both delighted with the change that has taken place in me. Last evening in Berlin I called on Bernhard * without finding him at home, and thus convinced myself, to my horror, that, besides the famous sausages, I had also mislaid your aunt's letters from Versin, and I haven't the faintest idea where they are. If they were left in Reinfeld by any chance, do send them immediately. I left a note for Bernhard, explaining what a bad messenger I am, and I fancy your aunt will have no further use for me in that capacity.

As soon as the floods (which, for that matter, have not yet arrived) are over, I shall fly again northwards, to look up the flower of the wilderness, as my cousin puts it. As soon as I am quiet in Schönhausen I shall write you more in detail; for the present only this token of life and love, for the horses stamp, neigh, and rear at the door, and I have still much to do to-day. Most cordial remembrances to your—or, j'ose dire, our—parents.

Sans phrase, yours from top to toe.

Kisses cannot be written.

Farewell.

Not Written You

2007-12-30T06:36:00.000-08:00

March 17, 1851,

Yesterday, my love, I received two letters from you, enclosing one for the Countess Stolberg, and to-day, to my joy, I find one again, and for your diligence I praise you very much and thank you. It makes me all the more ashamed because for three days now I have not written to you, and this time not owing to immersion in business, but from sheer laziness. Since Friday evening I have been pretty well through with my committee labors, and felt so well over it on Saturday that I cut the meeting which I should have attended, loafed all morning in my dressing gown, reading and smoking, and then went out riding with Oscar for three hours in the delightful spring weather.

The sun shone quite warm; already there are shoots on the willows, the saucy honeysuckle leaves are coming out as large as groschen, and we rode so hard that both legs still ache from it; then I lay for a very long time in a warm bath, ate well and heartily at the inn, smoked, went to the theatre, and finished up with beer at Schwarz's — on the whole, a very well-spent day… The Stolbergs have left for Silesia, and will remain there ten days; I am sending your letter after them; but, out of regard for my
Philistine disposition, you must be good enough to write the address in bald prose, otherwise I cannot put such a letter in the mail; right across through “your Elizabeth” I wrote a new address in broomstick characters; love her very much inside, and be cold and courteous on the envelope; so the custom of the world demands. I think that, after all, I shall have to go to Schönhausen on April 1st, because there will be many expenses if I am not there myself, and perhaps I shall have to go, anyway, if the grant to the hospital means further extensions. Then I will so arrange as to be in Reinfeld with my dear little one on the 11th.

But I want to make you lots of presents with my saved-up pay, if mammy would only write what. Tulle or mull? I have already secured Eichendorf. Do you know that the man is still alive? He lives here in the Cadet Corps with his son-in-law, who is an instructor or an officer there. Don't let the fact that he is a Privy-Councillor be any check to your enthusiasm. Now, good-bye, my angel. Love to parents and cousins. God watch over you.

Your most faithful

My Birthday

2007-12-30T06:33:00.000-08:00

April 3, 1851,

I could not write to you on my birthday, my angel, although my first thought in the morning, after my thanks to God for all His blessings during the past year, was with you, and my dearest prayer was for yourself and the children. In the morning I was awakened by Andrae, who had been with Hans; then Malle called, brought me a very useful pair of slippers and a cravat (from you or mammy?), and burnt almonds; then came Knaak, whose congratulations were very cordial and kind; then I had to yawn from ten to four in the Chamber, and for dinner Röder and Stolberg had arranged a Luculline feast, which appeared to me to be terribly expensive. I was the guest of the company, consisting of Oscar, Malle, the Stolbergs, Hans, Roder, Prillwitz, Munchhausen (the new magistate for the first Jerichow district), and Andrae, the latter being also a guest. We caroused until eight, and spent the evening with the Stolbergs. Yesterday I still felt quite fatigued owing to this copious dinner, took a bath, then rode sharply for three hours with Malle, a Fräulein von Veltheim from our neighborhood near Magdeburg, and several gentlemen. After all this I was sleepy in the evening, and I am now writing you that I am well, love you very much, and still hope to be with you by the 11th.... Farewell, my sweetheart.

Your most faithful.

Thinking Of You

2007-12-30T06:32:00.000-08:00

April 10, 1851,

I write you in great anger, my dear, because they have just, by adjournment, choked off a long and carefully prepared speech, with all possible new material which I had collected with much trouble, so that all my bother was in vain, and I must content myself with voting. Despite all the bitterness, which is hardly kept in check by thoughts of you and all I love, because it came about through the stupidity and cowardice of our “friends,” I must, nevertheless, send you love and best wishes for to-morrow; and even if this letter does not arrive till day after to-morrow, still be assured that I shall think of you very lovingly, and ask God's blessing on you more earnestly than ever.

Whatever presents I have for you I shall bring with me.... I’ll finish my packing and other business Saturday, I will leave on Sunday (God will pardon me, I think), and if not, early Monday. It is possible I may have to return here after Easter, and on May 10th the Chamber is to close. May it go to the —!

Good-bye, for to-day, my sweetheart. Soon after this letter you will have me, too.

Your most faithful

Your Birthday

2007-12-30T06:29:00.000-08:00

April 9, 1857,

MY BELOVED HEART,

To be sure, I have nothing to add to my sheet of yesterday, but I think you will receive these lines day after to-morrow, or at earliest to-morrow before going to bed, and so, in case the latter is true I will wish you a good-night, with angels to guard you, but, besides that, God's richest blessing on your birthday, for next year and beyond; may He keep sorrow and sickness from you, let the children be well, and let me be very seldom grumpy or absent, and reward you richly for all the love and truth you have shown me. I cannot procure the blue breast here, it is true, but a heart full of thanks arid love for God our Lord, and for you, my love, I shall bring back to you as a birthday present. I can only pray that things may continue a long, long time to go with us as hitherto.

Yesterday I had lots of Hatzfeld, a very long call with Walewsky, and with a remarkable old lady—remarkable in loveliness—the old Grand Duchess Stephanie, who is very gracious to me… Last evening I was at the opera, ballet very fine, many pretty people, but ballets always bore me. To-morrow I shall hear a German sermon.

We will celebrate your birthday next week, the day after my return. God be with you, my heart. Love to the children. What shall I bring with me for Pauline?

Your most faithful

SONNET CIX

2007-12-30T06:28:00.001-08:00

THE COURAGE AND TIMIDITY OF LOVE.

THE long Love that in my thought I harbour,
And in my heart doth keep his residence,
Into my face presseth with bold pretence,
And there campeth displaying his banner.
She that me learns to love and to suffer,
And wills that my trust, and lust's negligence
Be rein'd by reason, shame, and reverence,
With his hardiness takes displeasure.
Wherewith Love to the heart's forest he fleeth,
Leaving his enterprise with pain and cry,
And there him hideth, and not appeareth.
What may I do, when my master feareth.
But in the field with him to live and die?
For good is the life, ending faithfully.
LOVE, that liveth and reigneth in my thought,
That built its seat within my captive breast;

Clad in the arms wherein with me he fought,
Oft in my face he doth his banner rest.
She, that me taught to love, and suffer pain;
My doubtful hope, and eke my hot desire
With shamefaced cloak to shadow and restrain,
Her smiling grace converteth straight to ire.
And coward love then to the heart apace
Taketh his flight; whereas he lurks, and plains
His purpose lost, and dare not show his face.
For my lord's guilt thus faultless bide I pains.
Yet from my lord shall not my foot remove:
Sweet is his death, that takes his end by love.

LOVE in my thought who ever lives and reigns,
And in my heart still holds the upper place,
At times come forward boldly in my face,
There plants his ensign and his post maintains :
She, who in love instructs us and its pains,
Would fain that reason, shame, respect should chase
Presumptuous hope and high desire abase,
And at our daring scarce herself restrains,
Love thereon to my heart retires dismay'd,
Abandons his attempt, and weeps and fears,
And hiding there, no more my friend appears.
What can the liege whose lord is thus afraid,'
More than with him, till life's last gasp, to dwell?
For who well loving dies at least dies well.

SESTINA V

2007-12-30T06:26:00.000-08:00

HE TELLS THE STORY OF HIS LOVE, RESOLVING HENCEFORTH TO DEVOTE HIMSELF TO GOD.

BENEATH the pleasant shade of beauteous leaves
I ran for shelter from a cruel light, *
E'en here below that burnt me from high heaven,
When the last snow had ceased upon the hills,
And amorous airs renew'd the sweet spring time,
And on the upland flourish'd herbs and boughs.
Ne'er did the world behold such graceful boughs,
Nor ever wind rustled so verdant leaves,
As were by me beheld in that young time :
So that, though fearful of the ardent light,
I sought not refuge from the shadowing hills,
But of the plant accepted most in heaven.
A laurel then protected from that heaven:
Whence, oft enamour'd with its lovely boughs,
A roamer I have been through woods, o'er hills,
But never found I other trunk, nor leaves
Like these, so honour'd with supernal light,
Which changed not qualities with changing time.
Wherefore each hour more firm, from time to time
Following where I heard my call from heaven,
And guided ever by a soft clear light,
I turn'd, devoted still, to those first boughs,
Or when on earth are scatter'd the sere leaves,
Or when the sun restored makes green the hills.
The woods, the rocks, the fields, the floods, and hills,
All that is made, are conquer'd. changed by time:
And therefore ask 1 pardon of those leaves,
If. after many years, revolving heaven
Sway'd me to flee from those entangling boughs,
When I begun to see its better light.
So dear to me at first was the sweet light,
That willingly I pass'd o'er difficult hills, But to be nearer those beloved boughs; Now shortening life, the apt place and full time Show me another path to mount to heaven, And to make fruit not merely flowers and leaves. Other love, other leaves, and other light, Other ascent to heaven by other hills I seek—in sooth 'tis time—and other boughs.

SONNET CXIV

2007-12-30T06:25:00.000-08:00

HE CELEBRATES LAURA'S BEAUTY AND VIRTUE.

O mind, by ardent virtue graced and warm'd,
To whom my pen so oft pours forth my heart;
Mansion of noble probity, who art
A tower of strength 'gainst all assault full arm'd.
O rose effulgent, in whose foldings, charm'd,
We view with fresh carnation snow take part!
O pleasure whence my wing'd ideas start
To that bless'd vision which no eye, unharm'd,
Created, may approach—thy name, if rhyme
Could bear to Bactra and to Thule's coast,
Nile, Tanai's, and Calpe should resound,
And dread Olympus.—But a narrower bound
Confines my flight: and thee, our native clime
Between the Alps and Apennine must boast.
WITH glowing virtue graced, of warm heart known,
Sweet Spirit! for whom so many a page I trace,
Tower in high worth which foundest well thy base!
Centre of honour, perfect, and alone!
O blushes! on fresh snow like roses thrown,
Wherein I read myself and mend apace ;
O pleasures ! lifting me to that fair face
Brightest of all on which the sun e'er shone.
Oh! if so far its sound may reach, your name
On my fond verse shall travel West and East,
From southern Nile to Thule's utmost bound.
But such full audience since I may not claim,
It shall be heard in that fair land at least
Which Apennine divides, which Alps and seas surround.

SONNET CXII

2007-12-30T06:23:00.000-08:00

THE CHARMS OF LAURA WHEN SHE FIRST MET HIS SIGHT.

NE'ER can the sun such radiance soft display, Piercing some cloud that would its light impair; Ne'er tinged some showery arch the humid air, With variegated lustre half so gay, As when, sweet-smiling my fond heart away, All-beauteous shone my captivating fair; For charms what mortal can with her compare! (But truth, impartial truth! much more might)
I saw young Cupid, saw his laughing eyes
With such bewitching, am'rous sweetness roll,
That every human glance I since despise.
Believe, dear friend! I saw the wanton boy;
Bent was his bow to wound my tender soul;
Yet, ah! once more I'd view the dang'rous joy.

SUN never rose so beautiful and bright
When skies above most clear and cloudless show'd,
Nor, after rain, the bow of heaven e'er glow'd
With tints so varied, delicate, and light,
As in rare beauty flash'd upon my sight,
The day I first took up this am'rous load,
That face whose fellow ne'er on earth abode—
Even my praise to paint it seems a slight!
Then saw I Love, who did her fine eyes bend
So sweetly, every other face obscure
Has from that hour till now appear'd to me.
The boy-god and his bow, I saw them, friend,
From whom life since has never been secure,
Whom still I madly yearn again to see.

A Birthday Present

2007-12-29T10:10:00.000-08:00

This letter is in smaller print for good reason. It is very important to make sure it fits on this page exactly as it was written in its original form. That is, the same number of words on every line must appear below as they appeared when it was first written and presented to Linda. Why? Well, that will become apparent when you’re finished reading.

What do you want for your birthday?

Dearest Linda,

“I” is not a word that you say very often. You’re humble. You’re strong. You
don’t ask for much. In fact, to ask for a simple glass of water is upsetting; you
want to get it on your own. You don’t want to inconvenience others. It’s too
much. I do get it. You are tired of being cared for. You are tired of asking. I do
all the running around and as crazy as it may sound to some, you want that. So
I can have a rest. If you could have anything for your birthday, I bet you would
want to care for others – to do the giving for a change. An extravagant vacation
is not what you want most. Sure, it sounds great. But you’d settle for much less;
to have life’s simple pleasures. To just enjoy the many things that most people
take for granted; things you probably took for granted yourself, before. And even
my ignorance existed for years. Now we know better. Now we can show our
boys a better way to view the world. We can teach them to enjoy every moment,
to make the most of every occasion, to experience life to its fullest, and to give.
School doesn’t teach you those things. Watching it lived out everyday does; each
and everyday, in a classroom led by mommy and daddy. Even if all we’re able
to accomplish in this life is to raise two good boys, it will have been worth it. But
go tell that to the world. And they’ll laugh. “Rubbish!” is what they’ll say, “get
on with your life.” But what they don’t understand is that this is our life. We had
a different plan, but it didn’t work out. I know something better is in store for us. A
date set by God; a path not entirely clear at the moment, but that will leave us
with more blessings than we could ever imagine. That’s my prayer and that is
my hope. One day very soon, you and I will experience a joy beyond your
husband Eddie’s wildest imagination.

You deserve it. I hope and pray you will get it.

Your loving husband,

Eddie

PS. This letter contains a dual message. The first message is my answer to the title question that you see by reading this letter plainly. The second is your answer to the title question (that you once told me). You can find the secret message by applying the decoder.

Decoder: Use one word from each line to find the secret message.

End of the letter….

Well, in case you’re having trouble finding the second (hidden) message, I’ll tell you how to find it. It is made up from the first word of every line, “I don’t want much. All I want is to take my boys to school and to go on a date with my husband.”

Pizza On The Floor

2007-12-29T09:48:00.001-08:00

My sweet tender Linda,

Remember…

Content with our simple lives… we didn’t care that we had no furniture, no chairs, no tables, no forks and knives – pretty much nothing. All we had was a bed, a kitchen table and a microwave oven. Of course, we had each other too. And that’s all we needed. We were as happy as a couple of clams. Sitting there on the floor, laughing, joking and having more fun than maybe we ever had, perhaps with the possible exception of the day we married. We didn’t have much, but that was ok, because we had anticipation – anticipation of good things to come – happy memories waiting to happen. We looked around and dreamt of the two of us with a house full of kids and of course, a fully furnished living room, dining room, kitchen, bath, and couple of bedrooms.

Sitting there on the floor, we just ate our pizza and enjoyed the moment. We were letting it all sink in… all the dreams, all the plans, and all the fun we were going to have making it happen. The two of us sat there alone in that little house; that little house with so much potential. It was up to us to do something with it, to make the most of our lives, to live a life together – the life we dreamed of and that we couldn’t wait to start living.

Those days are long gone, but not much different from today in many ways…

Back then we had lots of dreams. Today we have lots of dreams. Back then we had lots of needs. Today we have lots of needs. But one significant thing has changed. Back then we were content with what we had and looked forward with joy! Today we are not so content. And today we have little joy and little hope.

I think there’s a lesson in there somewhere.

Our needs are greater now than they ever where. So shouldn’t greater need be met with greater hope? Our contentment is less than it’s ever been. So shouldn’t less contentment be met with greater faith?

I pray to God that He hears this prayer! Dear God! Grant us great faith, help us to be content, give us hope, and heal my wife Linda! Give her the desires of heart.

I’ll be your faithful husband to the very end, no matter what!

If You Were A Landscape

2007-12-29T09:46:00.000-08:00

You would have wide open prairies (your understanding) with lush green grass and patches of Wild Flowers everywhere (your easy nature and your beauty).

Although you sit under partly sunny skies, (your wonderful joy that's shaded by hardship), your summit allows a view of the horizon that is so clear and beautiful, (your optimism and hope endure), and...

On it you can almost see forever (your dreams coming true).

There is a strong tree (your husband) by a King-sized river (our source of strength and nourishment from God), that sustains you and your gardens (your children so beautiful and tender).

So wonderful and inviting that all who dwell there, rejoice! (Your family loves to be with you)

Breathtaking Reality

2007-12-29T09:45:00.000-08:00

Home-town love found over a hot dog counter. It doesn’t sound romantic, but it was the single most important event in my life. Among old friends that I can barely remember – among those fading names and faces – I met the girl that would become my wife.

I never expected that ordinary day to be so significant. I always dreamt of it: what she would be like, how she would act, and where I would meet her? When it arrived, it was a wonderful surprise.

By no means, would I have ever guessed the place to be over a hot dog counter. But honestly it doesn’t really matter where it was; over a hot dog, in the park, or over looking the ocean. Perfect settings and moments are for the movies. The moments of real life are the ones that I treasure most.

Where I met you was and always will be burned in my memory. The day that I met my wife, the day that changed the course my life, that day, in my home-town, over the hot dog counter, I met my wife.

You deserve that trophy!

2007-12-29T09:42:00.000-08:00

The world sees you differently than I do. I know one way and they know another. They know you as a daughter, a neighbor, a friend, but only from afar, not up close and real.

They don’t know how great of a mother you really are.

They don’t see what you have to go through, what it takes for you to do simple things to please your kids... things other moms take for granted or do without a second thought – like make a batch of homemade cookies.

You do the same, but it’s worth more; much more because it’s such a difficult task for you. It’s like those other moms running a marathon... that’s what you do, run a marathon for your kids! But you don’t get a ribbon or a trophy, and you should! Instead, you get a nod or maybe a smile.

Your love is so great, your desires so simple.

You deserve a much greater reward than a nod and a smile. You deserve that trophy! You deserve that ribbon!

I pray that you find this letter as a trophy of my love to you, just my simple way of telling you that I love you for being such a great mother, wife and friend.

The world may see you as just another mom, but to me – you’re my wife and my best friend, my hero. You are the most important person in the world to me.

About The "Love Letter Lane" Library

2007-12-29T08:41:00.000-08:00

This is the "Love Letter Lane" library. Where you can take a peek at someone else’s works of art, love letter samples old and new, to help inspire you. You’ll find them fun, entertaining, smart, interesting, inspirational... and 100% free.

A good romantic movie, a good book, a love story, a song, a memory, or a face may provide inspiration for your next love letter. But if not, maybe one of the love letters found on this Blog will help.

Beautiful love letters from around the world that will not only inspire you, but also entertain you, for sure. They are

Witty

“Kisses cannot be written.”

Passionate

“You are my share of the world, also my share of Heaven… If you could change or go out of my life now, the sun would drop out of my heavens: I should see the world with a great piece gashed out of its side,—my share of it gone. “

And deep

“To-day my love flies low over the earth like a swallow before rain, and touching the tops of the flowers has culled you these. Kiss them until they open: they are full of my thoughts, as the world, to me, is full of you.”

Love Letters

From an Englishwomen
From Bismarck
From Petrarch and Shakespeare
From celebrities
From Kings
From Edward A. Bordi (that’s me)
From you (perhaps one day soon) | Submit Your Love Letter