A Love Letter To My Husband

October 3, 2009 by  
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I have now been a widow for fourteen months.  I loved my husband as I have never loved anyone in my life before.  When we met it was like we both had won the lottery; neither one of us perfect but perfect for each other.

My loss is huge.  My husband was fun, funny, intelligent, and he wished for my happiness.  He didn’t compete with me and he was so self assured that he gave me all the space to be who I am; a loud, independent, opinionated woman.

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Van Gogh’s Love Letter

July 9, 2009 by  
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September 7, 1881

Life has become very dear to me, and I am very glad that I love. My life and my love are one. “But you are faced with a ‘no, never never'” is your reply. My answer to that is, “Old boy, for the present I look upon that ‘no, never never’ as a block of ice which I press to my heart to thaw.”

Vincent Van Gogh lived in Holland in the 1800s. He was desperately in love with his cousin, but his cousin refused to marry him. This letter was written by Vincent to his brother, Theo, talking about his love for his cousin.


Voltaire’s Love Letter

July 6, 2009 by  
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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, 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!


In 1733, Voltaire was 39 years old and a successful playwright, poet and businessman when he met Emilie. She was 28, and lived the life of an upper class Parisian woman of society.  The shared love and a thirst for knowledge and spent their time together reading, writing and discussing their work and other people’s work.

Voltaire wrote to a friend shortly after Emilie’s death in 1749, “It is not a mistress I have lost but half of myself, a soul for which my soul seems to have been made.”