Famous Examples

January 23, 1935

My darling Clemmie,

In your letter from Madras you wrote some words very dear to me, about my having enriched your life. I cannot tell you what pleasure this gave me, because I always feel so overwhelmingly in your debt, if there can be accounts in love…. What it has been to me to live all these years in your heart and companionship no phrases can convey.

Time passes swiftly, but is it not joyous to see how great and growing is the treasure we have gathered together, amid the storms and stresses of so many eventful and to millions tragic and terrible
years?

Your loving husband

(Winston Churchill)
My Dearest Friend,

…should I draw you the picture of my heart it would be what I hope you would still love though it contained nothing new.  The early possession you obtained there, and the absolute power you have obtained over it, leaves not the smallest space unoccupied.

I look back to the early days of our acquaintance and friendship as to the days of love and innocence, and, with an indescribable pleasure, I have seen near a score of years roll over our heads with an affection heightened and improved by time, nor have the dreary years of absence in the smallest degree effaced from my mind the image of the dear untitled man to whom I gave my heart.

Abigail Adams to John Adams, her husband.  He became the second president of the United States.  Written December 23, 1782
The novels of F. Scott Fitzgerald (1896 – 1940) perfectly captured the spirit of the 1920s. His best-known novel, The Great Gatsby, made him an instant success and subjected both Fitzgerald and his wife, Zelda, to intense publicity. Much of that attention was negative, dwelling on Fitzgerald’s battles with alcohol and Zelda’s mental breakdown. It is evident in this letter, written just before their marriage, the extent of their devotion to each other.

Spring 1919

Sweetheart,

Please, please don’t be so depressed — We’ll be married soon, and then these lonesome nights will be over forever — and until we are, I am loving, loving every tiny minute of the day and night — Maybe you won’t understand this, but sometimes when I miss you most, it’s hardest to write — and you always know when I make myself — Just the ache of it all — and I can’t tell you. If we were together, you’d feel how strong it is — you’re so sweet when you’re melancholy. I love your sad tenderness — when I’ve hurt you — That’s one of the reasons I could never be sorry for our quarrels — and they bothered you so — Those dear, dear little fusses, when I always tried so hard to make you kiss and forget —

Scott — there’s nothing in all the world I want but you — and your precious love — All the material things are nothing. I’d just hate to live a sordid, colorless existence — because you’d soon love me less — and less — and I’d do anything — anything — to keep your heart for my own — I don’t want to live — I want to love first, and live incidentally — Why don’t you feel that I’m waiting — I’ll come to you, Lover, when you’re ready — Don’t don’t ever think of the things you can’t give me — You’ve trusted me with the dearest heart of all — and it’s so damn much more than anybody else in all the world has ever had —

How can you think deliberately of life without me — If you should die — O Darling — darling Scott — It’d be like going blind. I know I would, too, — I’d have no purpose in life — just a pretty — decoration. Don’t you think I was made for you? I feel like you had me ordered — and I was delivered to you — to be worn — I want you to wear me, like a watch — charm or a button hole boquet — to the world. And then, when we’re alone, I want to help — to know that you can’t do anything without me.

I’m glad you wrote Mamma. It was such a nice sincere letter — and mine to St. Paul was very evasive and rambling. I’ve never, in all my life, been able to say anything to people older than me — Somehow I just instinctively avoid personal things with them — even my family. Kids are so much nicer.
Theodore Roosevelt, Jr. (1887-1944)

The eldest child of U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt by his second wife, was born at Sagamore Hill, the family home in Oyster Bay, on New York’s Long Island. In 1908 after attending Harvard, he went into business, and married Eleanor (Bunny) in 1910. In time they had four children. During World War I young Teddy fought in France and received many decorations for bravery. In the 1920’s he entered politics, going on to hold several high offices, including assistant secretary of the Navy and governor of Puerto Rico.

May 20, 1943

Dearest Bunny,

Do you know what this is–a wedding anniversary letter. I think it should arrive about on the right date. Do you remember that hot June day thirty-three years ago?–the church jammed–Father with a lovely waistcoat with small blue spots–the Rough Riders–the ushers in cutaways–the crowds in the street–your long white veil and tight little bodice–the reception at Aunt Harriet’s–Uncle Ed–your mother with one of her extraordinary hats that stood straight up.

And do you remember what the world was then–little and cozy–a different order of things, wars considered on the basis of a Dick [Richard Harding] Davis novel, a sort of “As it was in the beginning” atmosphere over life. We’ve come a long way down a strange road since then.

Nothing has happened as we imagined it would except our children. We never thought we’d roam the world. We never thought our occupations and interests would cover such a range. We never thought that our thirty-third anniversary would find us deep in our second war and me again at the front. Well, darling, we’ve lived up to the most important part of the ceremony, “In sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, till death do you part.”

Much, much love.
The White House
September 19, 1915

My noble, incomparable Edith,

I do not know how to express or analyze the conflicting emotions that have surged like a storm through my heart all night long. I only know that first and foremost in all my thoughts has been the glorious confirmation you gave me last night – without effort, unconsciously, as of course – of all I have ever thought of your mind and heart.

You have the greatest soul, the noblest nature, the sweetest, most loving heart I have ever known, and my love, my reverence, my admiration for you, you have increased in one evening as I should have thought only a lifetime of intimate, loving association could have increased them.

You are more wonderful and lovely in my eyes than you ever were before; and my pride and joy and gratitude that you should love me with such a perfect love are beyond all expression, except in some great poem which I cannot write.

Your own,
Woodrow

(Edith Bolling Galt later became Edith Galt Wilson, Woodrow Wilson’s second wife and First Lady of the United States)
Voltaire (1694-1778), French author and philosopher, wrote this passionate letter to his sweetheart while in prison. At the age of nineteen Voltaire was sent as an attache to the French Ambassador to the Netherlands. It was there that he fell in love with Olympe Dunover, the poor daughter of a lower-class women. Their relationship was not approved of by either the ambassador of Olympe’s mother and Voltaire was soon imprisoned to keep them apart.

Shortly after, Voltaire managed to escape by climbing out of the window.

The Hague 1713

I am a prisoner here in the name of the King; they can take my life, but not the love that I feel for you. Yes, my adorable mistress, to-night I shall see you, and if I had to put my head on the block to do it.

For heaven’s sake, do not speak to me in such disastrous terms as you write; you must live and be cautious; beware of madame your mother as of your worst enemy. What do I say? Beware of everybody; trust no one; keep yourself in readiness, as soon as the moon is visible; I shall leave the hotel incognito, take a carriage or a chaise, we shall drive like the wind to Sheveningen; I shall take paper and ink with me; we shall write our letters.

If you love me, reassure yourself; and call all your strength and presence of mind to your aid; do not let your mother notice anything, try to have your pictures, and be assured that the menace of the greatest tortures will not prevent me to serve you. No, nothing has the power to part me from you; our love is based upon virtue, and will last as long as our lives. Adieu, there is nothing that I will not brave for your sake; you deserve much more than that. Adieu, my dear heart!

Arout
(Voltaire)
February 27, 1913.

To ‘Stella’ Beatrice Campbell

I want my rapscallionly fellow vagabond.

I want my dark lady. I want my angel –

I want my tempter.

I want my Freia with her apples.

I want the lighter of my seven lamps of beauty, honour,

laughter, music, love, life and immortality … I want

my inspiration, my folly, my happiness,

my divinity, my madness, my selfishness,

my final sanity and sanctification,

my transfiguration, my purification,

my light across the sea,

my palm across the desert,

my garden of lovely flowers,

my million nameless joys,

my day’s wage,

my night’s dream,

my darling and

my star…

George Bernard Shaw
Considered the ideal Japanese hero, Lord Kimura Shigenari was the Governor of Nagato in the 16th century. In this letter, Lady Shigenari, sensing that her husband would soon be killed in battle, chooses to take her own life rather than continue the journey of life alone.

16th Century

I know that when two wayfarers ‘take shelter under the same tree and slake their thirst in the same river’ it has all been determined by their karma from a previous life. For the past few years you and I have shared the same pillow as man and wife who had intended to live and grow old together, and I have become as attached to you as your own shadow. This is what I believed, and I think this is what you have also thought about us.

But now I have learnt about the final enterprise on which you have decided and, though I cannot be with you to share the grand moment, I rejoice in the knowledge of it. It is said that (on the eve of his final battle) the Chinese general, Hsiang Yü, valiant warrior though he was, grieved deeply about leaving Lady Yü, and that (in our own country) Kiso Yoshinaka lamented his parting from Lady Matsudono. I have now abandoned all hope about our future together in this world, and (mindful of their example) I have resolved to take the ultimate step while you are still alive. I shall be waiting for you at the end of what they call the road to death.

I pray that you may never, never forget the great bounty, deep as the ocean, high as the mountains, that has been bestowed upon us for so many years by our lord, Prince Hideyori.

To Lord Shigenari, Governor of Nagato
From His Wife
Publius Ovidius Naso — known as “Ovid” (43 B.C.-A.D.17)

Ovid wrote cool, witty, “modern” poems about the arts of love. Born in Sulmona, Italy, a small provincial town, he was educated in Rome and traveled in Greece before shocking and delighting Roman society with his poems, the Loves (Amores; written at intervals from 20 B.C. onward) and The Art of Love (Ars amatoria; c. 1 B.C.) Married three times, only his last marriage appears to have been a love match. Exiled to Tomis on the Black Sea for displeasing the emperor Augustus, he was separated from his wife until his death nine years later. His last and greatest work, the Metamorphoses, a collection of myths and legends that inspired many later writers, had just been completed when he was banished.

C A.D. 8-17

I plowed the vast ocean on a frail bit of timber; (whereas) the ship that bore the son of AEson (Jason)* was strong… The furtive arts of Cupid aided him; arts which I wish that Love had not learned from me. He returned home; I shall die in these lands, if the heavy wrath of the offended God shall be lasting.

My burden, most faithful wife, is a harder one than that which the son of AEson bore. You, too, whom I left still young at my departure from the City, I can believe to have grown old under my calamities. Oh, grant it, ye Gods, that I may be enabled to see you, even if such, and to give the joyous kiss on each cheek in its turn; and to embrace your emaciated body in my arms, and to say, “’twas anxiety, on my account, that caused this thinness”; and, weeping, to recount in person my sorrows to you in tears, and thus enjoy a conversation that I had never hoped for; and to offer the due frankincense, with grateful hand, to the Caesars, and to the wife that is worthy of a Caesar, Deities in real truth!

Oh, that the mother of Menon, that Prince being softened, would with her rosy lips, speedily call forth that day.

*Ovid compares his sea-journey into exile with the voyage made by Jason and the Argonauts, who went in search of the legendary Golden Fleece. He laments the fact that his own troubles are far worse than those Jason experienced.
Better than I would have expected of RR, but really, “Dear First Lady?”

Aboard Air Force One

March 4 1983

Dear First Lady

I know tradition has it that on this morning I place cards   Happy Anniversary cards on your breakfast tray.  But things are somewhat mixed up.  I substituted a gift & delivered it a few weeks ago.

Still this is the day, the day that marks 31 years of such happiness as comes to few men.  I told you once that it was like an adolescent’s dream of what marriage should be like.  That hasn’t changed.

You know I love the ranch but these last two days made it plain I only love it when you are there.  Come to think of it that’s true of every place & every time.  When you aren’t there I’m no place, just lost in time & space.

I more than love you, I’m not whole without you.  You are life itself to me.  When you are gone I’m waiting for you to return so I can start living again.

Happy Anniversary & thank you for 31 wonderful years.

I love you

Your Grateful Husband