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You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.
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love
letters
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Franz Kafka |
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"I get so god damn lonely and sad and filled with regrets some days. It overwhelms me as I'm sitting on the bus; watching the golden leaves from a window; a sudden burst of realisation in the middle of the night. I can't help it and I can't stop it. I'm alone as I've always been and sometimes it hurts.... but I'm learning to breathe deep through it and keep walking. I'm learning to make things nice for myself. To comfort my own heart when I wake up sad. To find small bits of friendship in a crowd full of strangers. To find a small moment of joy in a blue sky, in a trip somewhere not so far away, a long walk an early morning in December, or a handwritten letter to an old friend simply saying "I thought of you. I hope you're well." No one will come and save you. No one will come riding on a white horse and take all your worries away. You have to save yourself, little by little, day by day. Build yourself a home. Take care of your body. Find something to work on. Something that makes you excited, something you want to learn. Get yourself some books and learn them by heart. Get to know the author, where he grew up, what books he read himself. Take yourself out for dinner. Dress up for no one but you and simply feel nice. it's a lovely feeling, to feel pretty. You don't need anyone to confirm it.
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lovely
gratitude
happy
trying
feelings
depression
joy
books
learning
life-quotes
sadness
friendship
heart
heal
anxiety-disorder
being-happy
bus
december
mental-wellness
panic-attacks
minimalism
breath
deep
self-care
mindfulness
healing
prose
plan
breathing
growing-up
well
sky
worrying
worries
emotions
panic
moment
regret
learn
recovery
lonely
sad
night
mental-health
letters
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Charlotte Eriksson |
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I have tried to be a man of letters in love with ideas in order to be a wiser and more loving person, hoping to leave the world just a little better than I found it.
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love
wise
ideas
letters
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Cornel West |
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Harry picked it up and stared at it, his heart twanging like a giant elastic band. No one, ever, in his whole life, had written to him. Who would? He had no friends, no other relatives -- he didn't belong to the library, so he'd never even got rude notes asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake:
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letters
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J.K. Rowling |
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It's funny; in this era of e-mail and voice mail and all those things that even I did not grow up with, a plain old paper letter takes on amazing intimacy.
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letters
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Elizabeth Kostova |
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How wonderful it is to be able to write someone a letter! To feel like conveying your thoughts to a person, to sit at your desk and pick up a pen, to put your thoughts into words like this is truly marvelous.
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letters
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Haruki Murakami |
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My education was neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading.
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reading
letters
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Mary Shelley |
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Venerable are letters, infinitely brave, forlorn, and lost.
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letters
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Virginia Woolf |
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i miss u i love you there's no second ive lived you can't call your own
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romance
love
house-of-leaves
letters
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Mark Z. Danielewski |
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The awful part of the writing game is that you can never be sure the stuff is any good.
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writing-life
humour
writing
letters
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P.G. Wodehouse |
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where was I? in remarking that me is the envelopes and not nearly so much so, the often foolish letters inside.
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letter-art
letter-writing
letters
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Edward Gorey |
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Figures are the most shocking things in the world. The prettiest little squiggles of black looked at in the right light and yet consider the blow they can give you upon the heart.
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words
literature
writing
fonts
typeface
typography
power
letters
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H.G. Wells |
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Yetkin, ama aci veren bir buyu ile buradasiniz! Benim burada oldugum gibi, daha da elle tutulur bicimde; ben neredeysem siz de oradasiniz, benim oldugum kadar, daha da belirli.
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love
letters-to-milena
milena
letters
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Franz Kafka |
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You are so vulnerably haunting; Your eeriness is terrifyingly irresistible.
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haunting
letters
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Franz Kafka |
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It gave me a queer feeling. Yesterday or the day before, while I had been going about my business, quietly and in private, some unknown person -- some -- had gone to the trouble of marking my name on this envelope.
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letters
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Diane Setterfield |
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I have tonight begun reading a stupid, shitty book by Kerouac called , and I would give a ball to wake up tomorrow on some empty ridge with a herd of beatniks grazing in the clearing about 200 yards below the house. And then to squat with the big boomer and feel it on my shoulder with the smell of grease and powder and, later, a little blood.
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criticism
big-sur
correspondence
kerouac
hunting
beatnik
letters
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Hunter S. Thompson |
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I am, I must confess, an obsessive and superstitious letter-writer. When I am troubled I will write any long letter rather than make a telephone call. This is perhaps because I invest letters with magical power. To desiderate something in a letter is, I often irrationally feel, tantamount to bringing it about. A letter is a barrier, a reprieve, a charm against the world, an almost infallible method of acting at a distance. (And, it must be admitted, of passing the buck.) It is a way of bidding time to stop.
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writing
superstitious
obsessive
the-black-prince
iris-murdoch
magical
letters
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Iris Murdoch |
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EB: 'Ll showed me a long verse-letter, very obscene, he'd received from Dylan T[Thomas] before D's last trip here [New York]--very clever, but it really can't be published for a long, long time, he's decided. About people D. met in the U.S. etc.--one small sample: A Streetcar Named Desire is referred to as 'A truck called F------.' RL: 'Psycho-therapy is rather amazing--something like stirring up the bottom of an aquarium--chunks of the past coming up at unfamiliar angles, distinct and then indistinct.' RL: 'I have just finished the Yeats Letters--900 & something pages--although some I'd read before. He is so Olympian always, so calm, so really unrevealing, and yet I was fascinated.' RL: 'Probably you forget, and anyway all that is mercifully changed and all has come right since you found Lota. But at the time everything, I guess (I don't want to overdramatize) our relations seemed to have reached a new place. I assumed that would be just a matter of time before I proposed and I half believed that you would accept. Yet I wanted it all to have the right build-up. Well, I didn't say anything then.' EB: 'so I suppose I am just a born worrier, and that when the personal worries of adolescence and the years after it have more or less disappeared I promptly have to start worrying about the decline of nations . . . But I really can't bear much of American life these days--surely no country has ever been so filthy rich and so hideously uncomfortable at the same time.
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robert-lowell
letters
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Robert Lowell |
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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.
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love
wedding
letters
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John Banville |
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"It's my letter," she began. "I cannot make it right." "Come in, come in," the Prince said gently. "Maybe we can help you." She sat down in the same chair as before. "All right, I'll close my eyes and listen; read to me." " 'Westley, my passion, my sweet, my only, my own. Come back, come back. I shall kill myself otherwise. Yours in torment, Buttercup.' " She looked at Humperdinck. "Well? Do you think I'm throwing myself at him?" "It does seem a bit forward," the Prince admitted. "It doesn't leave him a great deal of room to maneuver."
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humor
love
melancholy
letters
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William Goldman |
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I've always found old bookstores exciting. Whenever I'm in a city that's new to me, I immedicately look through the telephone directory for BOOKS, USED AND RARE. Book dealers send me their catalogs, and I read them as carefully as I would a letter from an old friend, never knowing what treasure I might find. Sometimes the catalogs contain printed material other than books, such as old photographs, newspapers, pamphlets, postcards, and letters.
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pamphlets
photographs
postcards
newspapers
bookstores
letters
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Walter Dean Myers |
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I'm always running into the Sunday God of churchgoing Christians and cannot help noticing that he doesn't help out much on weekdays.
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religion
soul-of-the-age
letters
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Hermann Hesse |
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"Alma wrote in depth about laurel, mimosa, and verbena. She wrote about grapes and camellias, about the myrtle orange, about the cosseting of figs, She published under the name "A. Whittaker." Neither she nor George Hawkes believed that it would much benefit Alma to announce herself in print as female. In the scientific world of the day, there was still a strict division between "botany" (the study of plants by men) and "polite botany" was often indistinguishable from "botany"- except that one field was regarded with respect and the other was not- but still, Alma did not wish to be shrugged off as a mere polite botanist. Of course, the Whittaker name was famous in the world of plants and science, so a good number of botanists already knew precisely who "A. Whittaker" was. Not all of them, however. In response to her articles, then, Alma sometimes received letters from botanists around the world, sent to her in care of George Hawkes's print shop. Some of these letters began, "My dear Sir." Other letters were written to "Mr. A. Whittaker." One quite memorable missive even came addressed to "Dr. A. Whittaker." ( Alma kept that letter for a long time, tickled by the unexpected honorific.)"
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botanists
articles
authoress
botany
journal-entries
letters
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Elizabeth Gilbert |