This Valentine’s t’would be lovely to receive a smooch.
My Projects:
This Valentine’s t’would be lovely to receive a smooch.
(via followyourbliss)
New York
November 10, 1958
Dear Thom:
We had your letter this morning. I will answer it from my point of view and of course Elaine will from hers.
First — if you are in love — that’s a good thing — that’s about the best thing that can happen to anyone. Don’t let anyone make it small or light to you.
Second — There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you — of kindness and consideration and respect — not only the social respect of manners but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release in you strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn’t know you had.
You say this is not puppy love. If you feel so deeply — of course it isn’t puppy love.
But I don’t think you were asking me what you feel. You know better than anyone. What you wanted me to help you with is what to do about it — and that I can tell you.
Glory in it for one thing and be very glad and grateful for it.
The object of love is the best and most beautiful. Try to live up to it.
If you love someone — there is no possible harm in saying so — only you must remember that some people are very shy and sometimes the saying must take that shyness into consideration.
Girls have a way of knowing or feeling what you feel, but they usually like to hear it also.
It sometimes happens that what you feel is not returned for one reason or another — but that does not make your feeling less valuable and good.
Lastly, I know your feeling because I have it and I’m glad you have it.
We will be glad to meet Susan. She will be very welcome. But Elaine will make all such arrangements because that is her province and she will be very glad to. She knows about love too and maybe she can give you more help than I can.
And don’t worry about losing. If it is right, it happens — The main thing is not to hurry. Nothing good gets away.
Love,
Fa
(via handluggage)
(via onionglass)
(via distantheartbeats)
A few years ago, when I was 18, my family and I went to the Lake District for just over a week. We rented out a beautiful chalet right on the water of Lake Windermere, and we just spent it without phones, computers, internet, etc. We walked around the fells and hiked up paths, did some mountain biking and rowing, and took leisurely cruises around some of the lakes. It was a lovely little holiday.
On one of the cruises, we met this couple. They were about 85 years old, and were taking what they called a second honeymoon. They were with us for most of the day, and I just fell in love with them. They were still so in love, so happy and so cute together, after more than forty or fifty years together. And when I say cute, I mean cute- they leaned their heads against each other, whispered in each other’s ears, teased each other, and generally just acted like a couple in young love. The wife teased her husband about his “reckless flirting” with me and said he’d “always been good with the ladies”. He’d recently had a minor stroke so I helped him on and off the boats and up slopes and stuff, and he always winked back at his wife as he took my arm.
It made me so happy to see them, and to see that people can be happy together after that long.
(via awritersruminations)
Virginia Woolf’s last letter to her husband, Leonard. It reads:
Tuesday.
Dearest,
I feel certain that I am going mad again. I feel we can’t go through another of those terrible times. And I shan’t recover this time. I begin to hear voices, and I can’t concentrate. So I am doing what seems the best thing to do. You have given me the greatest possible happiness. You have been in every way all that anyone could be. I don’t think two people could have been happier till this terrible disease came. I can’t fight any longer. I know that I am spoiling your life, that without me you could work. And you will I know. You see I can’t even write this properly. I can’t read. What I want to say is I owe all the happiness of my life to you. You have been entirely patient with me and incredibly good. I want to say that - everybody knows it. If anybody could have saved me it would have been you. Everything has gone from me but the certainty of your goodness. I can’t go on spoiling your life any longer.
I don’t think two people could have been happier than we have been.
V.
ephe:
Hands can tell a lot about a person, the lines among them tell stories either short or long, some are rough and some are soft. Some are dirty, and some have neatly trimmed and painted nails, yet none of that matters when you look into the eyes of the person who belongs to that hand and your heart is warmed, because all you want is to fulfill your hands urge to be within their grasp. Touching theirs, fingers laced together.
