great men....

I have been in an insanely sappy lovey mood lately. I've been reading a lot of poetry and short stories by some really amazing authors. Seeing the depths that love has extended for some people is so inspiring. After the movie Sex in the City came out many authors scrambled to produce a book called Love Letters of Great Men: Volume 1. Granted the movie talked about a book that didn't even exist so a smart author would definitely capitalize on the publicity of the movie and opportunities this book held. Many did. The great thing about this mass publication of love stories, letters, and poems is it restored a lot of women's faith in love. I love this, because I love love. Some of my favorite authors write amazing things about love. Today I was perusing, and I realized 2 of my favorites are Beethoven and Lord Byron. They are so eloquent.

6 July

My angel, my all, my own self – only a few words to-day, and that too with pencil (with yours) – only till to-morrow is my lodging definitely fixed. What abominable waste of time in such things – why this deep grief, where necessity speaks?

Can our love persist otherwise than through sacrifices, than by not demanding everything? Canst thou change it, that thou are not entirely mine, I not entirely thine? Oh, God, look into beautiful Nature and compose your mind to the inevitable. Love demands everything and is quite right, so it is for me with you, for you with me – only you forget so easily, that I must live for you and for me – were we quite united, you would notice this painful feeling as little as I should . . .

. . . We shall probably soon meet, even to-day I cannot communicate my remarks to you, which during these days I made about my life – were our hearts close together, I should probably not make any such remarks. My bosom is full, to tell you much – there are moments when I find that speech is nothing at all. Brighten up – remain my true and only treasure, my all, as I to you. The rest the gods must send, what must be for us and shall.

Your faithful

Ludwig

7 July

Even in bed my ideas yearn towards you, my Immortal Beloved, here and there joyfully, then again sadly, awaiting from Fate, whether it will listen to us. I can only live, either altogether with you or not at all. Yes, I have determined to wander about for so long far away, until I can fly into your arms and call myself quite at home with you, can send my soul enveloped by yours into the realm of spirits – yes, I regret, it must be. You will get over it all the more as you know my faithfulness to you; never another one can own my heart, never – never! O God, why must one go away from what one loves so, and yet my life in W. as it is now is a miserable life. Your love made me the happiest and unhappiest at the same time. At my actual age I should need some continuity, sameness of life – can that exist under our circumstances? Angel, I just hear that the post goes out every day – and must close therefore, so that you get the L. at once. Be calm – love me – to-day – yesterday.

What longing in tears for you – You – my Life – my All – farewell. Oh, go on loving me – never doubt the faithfullest heart

Of your beloved

L

Ever thine.
Ever mine.
Ever ours.

________

My dearest Caroline,

– If the tears, which you saw, and I 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 nervous affair, did not commence till the moment of leaving you approached; if all I have said and done, and am still but too ready to say and do, have not sufficiently proved what my feelings are, and must ever be, towards you, my love, I have no other proof to offer.

God knows I never knew till this moment the madness of my dear dearest and 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 scarcely conceive, for you do not know me.

I am about to go out with a heavy heart, for my appearing this evening will stop any absurd story to which the events of the day might give rise. Do you think now I am cold and stern and wilful? Will ever others think so? Will your mother ever? The mother to whom we must indeed sacrifice much more, much more on my part than she shall ever know, or can imagine.

‘Promise not to love you’? Ah, Caroline, it is past promising! But I shall attribute all concessions to the proper motive, and never cease to feel all that you have already witnessed, and more than ever can be known, but to my own heart – perhaps, to yours. May God forgive, protect and bless you ever and ever, more than ever. –Your most attached
Byron

______

Just thought I'd share...because today I am loved. As you all should be....