Scrisori de dragoste

Iata cateva scrisori de dragoste…..o doamne , nu ale mele…ci doar cateva scrisori celebre 😛

A Love Letter By Victor Hugo to Adele Foucher
Friday evening, March 15, 1822

After the two delightful evenings spent  yesterday and the day before, I shall certainly not go out tonight, but will sit here at home   and write to you.

Besides, my Adele, my adorable and adored Adele,   what have I not to tell you? O, God! for two days, I have been asking myself if   every moment if such happiness is not a dream.   It seems to me that what I feel is not of earth.  I cannot yet comprehend this cloudless heaven. You do not yet know, Adele, to what I had  resigned myself. Alas, do I know it myself?

Because I was weak, I fancied I was calm;  because I was preparing myself for all the mad  follies of despair, I thought I was courageous   and resigned.  Ah! let me cast myself humbly at your feet, you
who are so grand, so tender and strong!  I had been thinking that the utmost limit of my devotion could only be the sacrifice of my life;  but you, my generous love, were ready to sacrifice for me the repose of yours.

You have been privileged to receive every gift  from nature, you have both fortitude and tears. Oh, Adele, do not mistake these words for blind enthusiasm – enthusiasm for you has lasted all my life, and increased day by day.  My whole soul is yours.   If my entire existence had not been yours, the  harmony of my being would have been lost, and I  must have died — died inevitably.

These were my meditations, Adele, when the letter that was to bring me hope of else despair arrived.   If you love me, you know what must have been my   joy. What I know you may have felt, I will not describe. My Adele, why is there no word for this but joy?   Is it because there is no power in human speech
to express such happiness?   The sudden bound from mournful resignation to
infinite felicity seemed to upset me. Even now I  am still beside myself and sometimes I tremble  lest I should suddenly awaken from this dream   divine.

Oh, now you are mine! At last you are mine! Soon  in a few months, perhaps, my angel will sleep
in my arms, will awaken in my arms, will live  there.

All your thoughts at all moments, all your looks  will be for me; all my thoughts, all my moments,  all my looks, will be for you!

My Adele!  Adieu, my angel, my beloved Adele! Adieu!   I will kiss your hair and go to bed.  Still I am far from you, but I can dream of you.   Soon perhaps you will be at my side. Adieu; pardon the delirium of your husband who  embraces you, and who adores you, both for this  life and another.

Classic Love Letters, Edgar Allen Poe,

For her this rhyme is penned, whose luminous


Brightly expressive as the twins of Leda,

Shall find her own sweet name, that nestling


Upon the page, enwrapped from every reader.

Search narrowly the lines! they hold a treasure

Devine-a talisman-an amulet

That must be worn at heart. Search well the


The words- the syllables! Do not forget

The trivialest point, or you may lose your labor

And yet there is in this no Gordian knot

Which one might not undo without a sabre,

If one could merely comprehend the plot.

Enwritten upon the leaf where now are peering

Eyes scintillating soul, there lie perdus

Three eloquent words oft uttered in the hearing

Of poets, by poets- as the name is a poet’s,


Its letters, although naturally lying

Like the knight Pinto-Mendez Ferdinando-

Still form a synonym for Truth – Cease trying!

You will not read the riddle, though you do the

best you can do.

Edgar Allen Poe

Riddle answer: Frances Sargent Osgood



Count Leo Tolstoi to Valeria Arsenev, his fiance.

November 2, 1856

I already love in you your beauty, but I am only

beginning to love in you that which is eternal

and ever precious – your heart, your soul.

Beauty one could get to know and fall in love

with in one hour and cease to love it as

speedily; but the soul one must learn to know.

Believe me, nothing on earth is given without

labour, even love, the most beautiful and

natural of feelings.


Gustave Flaubert to his wife Louise Colet

August 15, 1846

I will cover you with love when next I see you,

with caresses, with ecstasy.

I want to gorge you with all the joys of the

flesh, so that you faint and die.

I want you to be amazed by me, and to confess to

yourself that you had never even dreamed of such


When you are old, I want you to recall those few

hours, I want your dry bones to quiver with joy

when you think of them.



Franz Kafka To Felice Bauer

11 November, 1912

Fräulein Felice!

I am now going to ask you a favor which sounds

quite crazy, and which I should regard as such,

were I the one to receive the letter.

It is also the very greatest test that even the

kindest person could be put to.

Well, this is it: Write to me only once a week,

so that your letter arrives on Sunday — for I

cannot endure your daily letters, I am incapable

of enduring them.

For instance, I answer one of your letters, then

lie in bed in apparent calm, but my heart beats

through my entire body and is conscious only of


I belong to you; there is really no other way of

expressing it, and that is not strong enough.

But for this very reason I don’t want to know

what you are wearing; it confuses me so much that I cannot deal with life; and that’s why Idon’t want to know that you are fond of me. If I

did, how could I, fool that I am, go on sitting

in my office, or here at home, instead of

leaping onto a train with my eyes shut and

opening them only when I am with you?

Oh, there is a sad, sad reason for not doing so.

To make it short: My health is only just good

enough for myself alone, not good enough for

marriage, let alone fatherhood. Yet when I read

your letter, I feel I could overlook even what

cannot possibly be overlooked.

If only I had your answer now! And how horribly

I torment you, and how I compel you, in the

stillness of your room, to read this letter, as

nasty a letter as has ever lain on your desk!

Honestly, it strikes me sometimes that I prey

like a spectre on your felicitous name! If only

I had mailed Saturday’s letter, in which I

implored you never to write to me again, and in

which I gave a similar promise.

Oh God, what prevented me from sending that

letter? All would be well. But is a peaceful

solution possible now? Would it help if we wrote

to each other only once a week?

No, if my suffering could be cured by such means

it would not be serious. And already I foresee

that I shan’t be able to endure even the Sunday

letters. And so, to compensate for Saturday’s

lost opportunity, I ask you with what energy

remains to me at the end of this letter: If we

value our lives, let us abandon it all.

Did I think of signing myself Dein? No, nothing

could be more false. No, I am forever fettered

to myself, that’s what I am, and that’s what I must try to live with.Franz



George Gordon (Lord Byron)


Lady Caroline Lamb

August 1812

My dearest Caroline,

If tears, which you saw & know I am not apt to

shed, if the agitation in which I parted from

you, agitation which you must have perceived

through the whole of this most nervous nervous

affair, did not commence till the moment of

leaving you approached, if all that I have said

& done, & am still but too ready to say & do,

have not sufficiently proved what my real

feelings are & must be ever towards you, my

love, I have no other proof to offer.

God knows I wish you happy, & when I quit you,

or rather when you from a sense of duty to your

husband & mother quit me, you shall acknowledge

the truth of what I again promise & vow, that no

other in word or deed shall ever hold the place

in my affection which is & shall be most sacred

to you, till I am nothing.

I never knew till that moment, the madness of —

my dearest & most beloved friend — I cannot

express myself — this is no time for words —

but I shall have a pride, a melancholy pleasure,

in suffering what you yourself can hardly

conceive — for you don not know me. — I am now

about to go out with a heavy heart, because —

my appearing this Evening will stop any absurd

story which the events of today might give rise

to — do you think now that I am cold & stern, &

artful — will even others think so, will your

mother even — that mother to whom we must

indeed sacrifice much, more much more on my

part, than she shall ever know or can imagine.

“Promises not to love you” ah Caroline it is

past promising — but shall attribute all

concessions to the proper motive — & never

cease to feel all that you have already

witnessed — & more than can ever be known but

to my own heart — perhaps to yours — May God

protect forgive & bless you — ever & even more

than ever.

yr. most attached


P.S. — These taunts which have driven you to

this — my dearest Caroline — were it not for

your mother & the kindness of all your

connections, is there anything on earth or

heaven would have made me so happy as to have

made you mine long ago? & not less now than

then, but more than ever at this time — you

know I would with pleasure give up all here &

all beyond the grave for you — & in refraining

from this — must my motives be misunderstood

–? I care not who knows this — what use is

made of it — it is you & to you only that they

owe yourself, I was and am yours, freely & most


Napoleon Bonaparte to Josephine De Beauharnais
Paris, December 1795



I wake filled with thoughts of you. Your
portrait and the intoxicating evening which we
spent yesterday have left my senses in turmoil.
Sweet incomparable Josephine, what a strange
effect you have on my heart!
Are you angry?
Do I see you looking sad? Are you worried? …
My soul aches with sorrow, and there can be no
rest for your lover; but is there still more in
store for me when, yielding to the profound
feelings which overwhelm me, I draw from your
lips, from your heart a love which consumes me
with fire? Ah! it was last night that I fully
realized how false an image of you your portrait
You are leaving at noon; I shall see you in
three hours.
Until then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses;
but give me none in return, for they set my
blood on fire.



Love Letters, Beethoven, Immortal Beloved letter

Letter 1

July 6, in the morning

My angel, my all, my very self –

Only a few words today and at that with

pencil (with yours) – Not till tomorrow will my

lodgings be definitely determined upon – what a

useless waste of time –

Why this deep sorrow when necessity speaks

– can our love endure except through sacrifices,

through not demanding everything from one

another; can you change the fact that you are

not wholly mine, I not wholly thine –

Oh God, look out into the beauties of

nature and comfort your heart with that which

must be –

Love demands everything and that very

justly – thus it is to me with you, and to you

with me.

But you forget so easily that I must live

for me and for you; if we were wholly united you

would feel the pain of it as little as I –

My journey was a fearful one; I did not

reach here until 4 o’clock yesterday morning.

Lacking horses the post-coach chose another

route, but what an awful one; at the stage

before the last I was warned not to travel at

night; I was made fearful of a forest, but that

only made me the more eager – and I was wrong.

The coach must needs break down on the

wretched road, a bottomless mud road.

Without such postilions as I had with me I

should have remained stuck in the road.

Esterhazy, traveling the usual road here,

had the same fate with eight horses that I had

with four – Yet I got some pleasure out of it,

as I always do when I successfully overcome

difficulties –

Now a quick change to things internal from

things external.

We shall surely see each other soon;

moreover, today I cannot share with you the

thoughts I have had during these last few days

touching my own life –

If our hearts were always close together, I

would have none of these.

My heart is full of so many things to say

to you – ah – there are moments when I feel that

speech amounts to nothing at all –

Cheer up – remain my true, my only

treasure, my all as I am yours.

The gods must send us the rest, what for us

must and shall be –

Your faithful LUDWIG

Letter 2

Evening, Monday, July 6

You are suffering, my dearest creature –

only now have I learned that letters must be

posted very early in the morning on Mondays to

Thursdays – the only days on which the

mail-coach goes from here to K. –

You are suffering –

Ah, wherever I am, there you are also – I

will arrange it with you and me that I can live

with you.

What a life!!! thus!!! without you –

pursued by the goodness of mankind hither and

thither – which I as little want to deserve as I

deserve it –

Humility of man towards man – it pains me –

and when I consider myself in relation to the

universe, what am I and what is He – whom we

call the greatest – and yet – herein lies the

divine in man –

I weep when I reflect that you will

probably not receive the first report from me

until Saturday –

Much as you love me – I love you more –

But do not ever conceal yourself from me –

good night –

As I am taking the baths I must go to bed –

Oh God – so near! so far!

Is not our love truly a heavenly structure,

and also as firm as the vault of heaven?

Letter 3

Good morning, on July 7

Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to

you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully,

then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate

will hear us –

I can live only wholly with you or not at

all –

Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away

from you until I can fly to your arms and say

that I am really at home with you, and can send

my soul enwrapped in you into the land of

spirits –

Yes, unhappily it must be so –

You will be the more contained since you

know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever

possess my heart – never – never –

Oh God, why must one be parted from one

whom one so loves.

And yet my life in V is now a wretched life

Your love makes me at once the happiest and

the unhappiest of men –

At my age I need a steady, quiet life – can

that be so in our connection?

My angel, I have just been told that the

mailcoach goes every day – therefore I must

close at once so that you may receive the letter

at once –

Be calm, only by a calm consideration of

our existence can we achieve our purpose to live

together –

Be calm – love me – today – yesterday –

what tearful longings for you – you – you – my

life – my all – farewell.

Oh continue to love me – never misjudge the

most faithful heart of your beloved.

ever thine

ever mine

ever ours




Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s