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collection of "love" letters for famous people like Beethoven, Mozart, Napoleon, Keats, Victor Hugo and many more. The letters varies between one long letter or a couple of short ones, and most of them are dedicated to one specific woman, but others have several correspondences with several women. It's a light and fluffy book, but I had some issues with it. p p p p p p p pp p p p p p p p p pp p p p p This is the book that Carie read from in the movie, Sex and the City, while in bed with Big... and in real life the book didn't exist until moviegoers and fans stormed bookstores looking for it. I have demanded parlance with your Bonnet: have asked it how many tender looks it has noticed to be directed under it; what soft words it has heard, close to its side; in what instances an air of triumph has caused it to be tossed; and whether, ever, and when, it has quivered from trembling emotions, proceeding from below. But it has proved itself a faithful keeper of secrets." William Hazlitt's letter was also a favorite, though I can't tell which one was more sad, the letter or the story behind the letter. Hazlitt, an admirable essayist, ("On The Pleasure of Hating" is one I've studied for its surprising mixture of ambiguity and clarity) fell in love with a twenty-three year old while he was still married. He wanted a divorce but remarriage after a divorce was only allowed in Scotland, so he went to Scotland. While waiting on the process, his young lover started a relationship with someone else and the devastated Hazlitt anonymously wrote a book about the experience but his critics ousted him as the author and it shattered his career.
Since you are here, we would like to share our vision for the future of travel - and the direction Culture Trip is moving in. The Cranberries - Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why CAN`t We ? 1993 The Cranberries - Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why CAN`t We ? 1993. a wild, delicious excitement which I would not have lost for the world. [...] everything has a gloss upon it. p p p ppp !pp p p p pp"p p p p p pp !p"pp p p pp p p p p p p p p One thing I am [as] sure of as that I exist: that is that I have all your heart and all your love. So I just want you to enjoy yourself - I love you so much. Have a topping time on the river and at shows, etc, with your friends, won't you? I do hope you are all well and having as jolly a time as we are, for I love you, sweetheart, and also, in a measure, the Bays [his small daughter's word for "babies"]. These letters and the short biographical notes reveal some interesting, sometimes amusing details about famous people's private lives, such as the fact that Mozart and his wife both loved scatological jokes; Robert Burns was a dog (he got two women pregnant while carrying on with his "main", I guess you'd say, mistress; one of the pregnant women was the mistress's maid); Napoleon Bonaparte seems to have been very insecure about his wife's love for him and tortured over it; Charles Darwin made a pro-/con list when he considered marriage, "better than a dog anyhow" was on the pro- side and "not forced to visit relatives" in the con side (he subsequently sounded very happy with his choice though, even though he married his first cousin); Robert Browning's love for Elizabeth Barrett started as a fan's admiration; Mark Twain's in-laws had been conductors on the Underground Railroad; Alfred Douglas did not abandon Oscar Wilde after his process, on the contrary, he campaigned in the press against the sentence and petitioned the Queen for clemency. This book is a collection of letters from (you guessed it) great men from throughout history to their love, or in some cases loves plural. Each letter is preceded by a short description of who the great man and the object/s of his affection were and a different side to these well-known names is revealed.
To Livy Darling “Let us look forward to the coming anniversaries, with their age and their gray hairs without fear and without depression, trusting and believing that the love we bear each other will be sufficient to make them blessed.” p p"p p p p p p p"p p p p pp pp p p p pp"p p p My Mistress and My Friend (Anne Boleyn), “My heart and I surrender themselves into your hands, and we supplicate to be commended to your good graces, and that by absence your affections may not be diminished to us, for that would augment our pain… more than I ever thought could be felt.” This is a collection of love letters but the history about the love affairs informing the letters, are even more interesting than the letters themselves.p)pp p pp pp p"p p pp p &p)"pp p &p"p p p &p/p p &p"p p/&)p'p Adieu—my love—my only one. Do not catch them in the air—those 2999½ little kisses from me which are flying about, waiting for someone to snap them up. Listen, I want to whisper something in your ear…”
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Do not put yourself out; run after pleasures; happiness is made for you. The entire world is too glad to be able to please you, and only your husband is very, very unhappy. James Joyce was born on February 2, 1882, in Dublin, Ireland, into a large Catholic family. Joyce was a very good pupil, studying poetics, languages, and philosophy at Clongowes Wood College, Belvedere College, and the Royal University in Dublin. Joyce taught school in Dalkey, Ireland, before marrying in 1904. Joyce lived in Zurich and Triest, teaching languages at Berlitz schools, and then settled in Paris in 1920 where he figured prominently in the Parisian literary scene, as witnessed by Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast. Joyce's collection of fine short stories, Dubliners, was published in 1914, to critical acclaim. Joyce's major works include A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Ulysses, Finnegans Wake, and Stephen Hero. Ulysses, published in 1922, is considered one of the greatest English novels of the 20th century. The book simply chronicles one day in the fictional life of Leopold Bloom, but it introduces stream of consciousness as a literary method and broaches many subjects controversial to its day. As avant-garde as Ulysses was, Finnegans Wake is even more challenging to the reader as an important modernist work. Joyce died just two years after its publication, in 1941. Translation: “Just gonna stand there and watch me burn, that’s alright because I love the way it hurts…” Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827), Revolutionary Musician and Composer There were a few winning qualities: I found the little biographies before each letter interesting, though there was some wording I wish Doyle would've changed (i.e. when a wife cheated on her husband, it was an "affair," but when a man cheated with a married woman it was "love"), but otherwise I found them interesting, and Doyle's neutrality didn't seem to overly-romanticize the more unhealthy relationships. I like that Doyle did not exclude Wilde's homosexuality as well. I was afraid for a moment, as she went on about his marriage, that she was going to ignore that portion of his life completely and instead deliver some letters from his early courtship with his wife (if those even exist?); but no, she only included the letters he wrote to his male partner. And of the letters, Wilde's were perhaps the most respectful of their subject (Twain's too, and the last letter in the book from the soldier who told his girlfriend she was free to have a life while he was at war).
I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing else. I have met with women whom I really think would like to be married to a Poem and to be given away by a Novel. To Josephine at Milan “That day when you say ‘I love you less’ will mark the end of my love and the last day of my life. Have you ceased to love me? My heart, obsessed by you, is full of fears which prostrate me with misery. You alone are the joy and torment of my life.” Translation: “Hey little mama let me whisper in your ear…” (on being creepy) Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821), The Great General and Emperor of France The letters are a mixture of witty and petulant and illicit and mundane, which proves to lessen the fairytale image often conjured of ancient love and heightens the realness of it. It enhances the often overlooked fact that these men lived. It brings a kinship between the men of the past and those of the present despite, no, because of, their various forms of correspondence and how they chose to articulate the desires of their souls.p p p p pp p pp3p"p p p p p"p p p p pp p# pp p 4p p 4p"p p p p pp p pp pp pp pp p 7pp p c pp p # p p p p8pp p * ppp p p p p p p p p" p' p pp p % p ppp p p As much as I loved reading about the poet, John Keats, and the reactionary critics he shared with William Hazlitt ( oh the joys of literary criticism), I also loved reading Keats' letters to the great love of his life, Fanny Brawne: And finally, this lovely confession by Nathaniel Hawthorne to his wife rings so true and sums up love for me: As the Introduction to the collection itself says, a vast number of these letters would not merit a glance if received today. Self-centred, egoistic, flowery, and impossibly cloying, they would be interpreted as hyperbolas or perhaps childlike attempts at humour. Perhaps teenagers write such things still. Perhaps we all do occasionally in our diaries, and not so occasionally in our hearts, but meritorious literature these letters hardly are. In fact perhaps a love letter is like underwear: meant for some eyes that will judge it by a criterion much different to ours. I am vain enough to conclude that (like most young fellows) a fine lady's silence is consent and so I write on –
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