Martha Gellhorn, From A Letter To William Walton Featured In The Selected Letters Of Martha Gellhorn

Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Leonard Woolf, featured in The Selected Letters of Virginia Woolf

I’ll always love you Angel, the light of your love is the only thing I will ever need in this life, and I hope to always make you happy. I hope to always be enough, and I know that we’re always going to make it together. I love you Aija, and I always will.❤️❤️❤️❤️

don’t let your anxiety prevent you from achieving great things, you deserve them

I love you Daddy 🤍

I love you too baby, ever since we met my life has been unrecognizable. You’ve brought so much light, beauty, happiness, and love into my life and for that I’ll be always grateful. I’ll always love you Angel, forever and always past the end of time. Because our love will live forever. I love you Angel, just the same no matter where we are, I’ll always love you and be here Angel. I love you❤️🩷🧡💗❤️🧡🧡💗❤️🩷🧡💗❤️🩷🧡💗

My Eternal Sunshine☀️💛💛💛💛

Gonna make it, one day at a time. ❤️

sorry about the symptoms of the mental illness im displaying that i told you i had next time i’ll try to not display symptoms of the mental illness that i told you i have

Hollow winds carry subtle soothing hymns amidst the forest of my heart, try as I may, the sea at bay stirs, bringing oceans of pain, a breeze of longing and sadness, alas, what more shall I come to know, and how my soul howls, a swell of loneliness that I have know since birth, clinging to the lingering kiss of your love, all alone, all but one, myself in the world, for the doves that once sang in the garden of my mind are no more, split, carried by separate migrations, ministrations of a universe that need not carry the pain of my heart, the light of the sun replaced by the cool, icy air of the moon, and even the suns light to reflect my own is gone too, but that I must need to face, all alone, just as before, and again, and need I ask “when may I not feel this way”, but again, I knew the answer all along, the light of heaven be not for me, but a faint glimmer of something I cannot know, a cruel measure, that I can’t match with feet of my own, maybe I should hold on to the thought of your wings carrying me higher, to see the sun, to catch the constellations as one, but in the end, just as the beginning, I am truly, just myself, all alone