Love Magic Works Free love spells that work fast
Love can have many facets. Sometimes it can end suddenly and at other times it can last a lifetime. But, without a doubt, it is a feeling that changes us completely… and only those who have truly fallen in love know what that feeling is like.
It was no different with certain personalities in history: they lived love so intensely that their letters became impressive literary gems, inspiring several generations. How long has it been since you wrote a heartfelt statement to someone? It may be that the cards that we will show you below will inspire you.
O awesome.club created a list of the most romantic letters in history that will leave you with your jaw dropped on realizing how love is the most timeless feeling there is.
1. From Napoleon Bonaparte to Josephine
The famous French leader met Rosa Tascher in 1795, but called her Josephine. Both had a turbulent love story in which infidelity, lies and power games were the protagonists. But Napoleon and Josephine shared correspondence many years after their divorce, up to four days before the woman’s death — on May 29, 1814.
I wake up full of you. Your portrait and the memory of yesterday’s heady night did not allow my senses to rest. Sweet and incomparable Josephine, what a strange effect you had on my heart! You are angry? You are sad? Is worried? My soul breaks with pain, and your friend finds no rest… but do I find him by chance when, surrendering to the deep feeling that dominates me, I extract from your lips, from your heart, a flame that burns me? Ah, how I realized last night that your portrait is not you! However, mio dolce amor, receive a thousand kisses, but don’t give me any, for they burn my blood.
2. From Martin Heidegger to Hannah Arendt
German philosopher Hannah Arendt was just 17 years old when she met her philosophy teacher. Letters from her reveal the depth of their love and the idealism that existed between them as he continued to live their marriage. In their letters, the two talked about poetry and philosophy, hoping to meet again soon. These correspondences followed for over 20 years.
Dearest! Thank you for your letter. If only I could tell you how happy I am with you, accompanying you as your life and world open up again. I can see how you understood and how providential everything is. No one ever appreciates experimentation with themselves. Because of this circumstance, all compromises, techniques, moralization, flight and withdrawal can inhibit and distort the providence of being. This distortion revolves around how, despite all our substitutes for “faith”, we have no genuine faith in existence itself, and we don’t understand how to sustain such a thing for ourselves. This faith in providence forgives nothing, and it is not an escape that will allow me to break up with myself in an easy way. Only that faith—which like faith in the other is love—can truly accept the “other” fully. When I saw that my joy in you is great and growing, it means that I also have faith in everything that is your story. I’m not creating an ideal, still less would I be trying to educate you, or anything like that. Luckily for you, as you are and will continue to be, with your story, this is how I love you. Only in this way is love strong for the future, and not just the ephemeral pleasure of a moment. Only then is the potential of the “other” also moved and consolidated by the crisis the struggles that always present themselves. But such faith is also responsible for misusing the trust of “the other” in love. The effect of the woman and her being is much closer to the origins for us men, less transparent. So it is providential, but more fundamental. We have an effect only as long as we are able to give. Whether the “gift” is always accepted immediately or in its entirety is a matter of little importance. And we, at best, have a right to exist only if we are capable of caring. We can only give what we ask of ourselves. And it is the depth with which I myself can seek my own being that determines the nature of my being towards others. And that love is the gratifying inheritance of existence, which can be. And so the new peace comes off your face, the reflection not of a free-floating happiness, but of the resolve and goodness in which you are entirely you. Your Martin.
3. From Beethoven to His Immortal Beloved
This eight-page letter written in pencil was addressed to a person whose identity is unknown, as it was never delivered to its addressee and was found in the same year as the famous composer’s funeral. According to studies, it was written in 1812.
I end up wandering aimlessly in the distance, until I can fly in your arms and I can consider myself entirely at home with you, and I can send my soul embraced by you to the realm of the spirit. Yes, unfortunately it must be. You must master yourself more when you know my fidelity to you, never can another possess my heart, never, never. Oh God, why have to separate yourself from what you love so much, and so my life in V (Vienna) as it is now is a miserable life love makes me the happiest man and the happiest man at the same time. At my age it should have a certain stable regularity. Can this exist in our relationship? Angel, right now I hear that the mail goes every day and therefore I must finish, so that you will receive the C (letter) immediately. Remain calm, only through the peaceful contemplation of our existence can we reach our goal of living together Be patient, love me today, yesterday, how painfully I miss you, you, you, my love, my everything, goodbye. Oh, keep on loving me, never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved, beloved L. Always yours, always mine, always ours.
4. From Emilia Pardo Bazán to Benito Pérez Galdós
What could come out of a torrid romance between two writers? Correspondence worthy of going down in history! Emilia, Countess of Pardo Bazán, in Spain, was an important writer; Benito was a novelist. According to legend, the letters that Emilia received were burned by her daughter, because she and Benito had a relationship that was not very well regarded at the time. The ones she wrote were found in 1889, and compiled into a book called “Miquino my”.
Before you met me, when only a dreamy friendship united us, I already imagined (with absolute purity, and there is the most delicious thing about figuration) the delights of a little stroll through Germany. The ones we had given through Madrid had enchanted me, and I thought to myself: “How beautiful it would be to emigrate with this individual. You will treat me like a sister, or rather, like a trusted friend. I will hear him speak all the time. I will learn from him novel things, aesthetics and art. We will see everything with double interest and double fruit. It seems delicate in health: I will take care of it, that I am robust. He will thank me: he will charge a lot of affection, and we will always be friends. They will believe that we are husband and wife, and since we will be nothing, we will laugh…”. Anyway, just a bunch of nonsense. I didn’t think about other things, on my honor. Your apparent coldness, the respect I have for you, your formal and reserved appearance, took that idea away from me entirely.
5. From Salvador Dali to Gala
Gala (actually, Elena Ivanovna Diakonova, a Russian 10 years older than the Spanish painter) lived a love story that lasted until the end of their lives — she died in 1982. But when they met, in 1929, Gala already she was married to the impressionist poet Paul Éluard. They only got together in 1934. The letter below shows a little bit of the relationship between the Spanish genius of painting and his beloved:
If you only knew how much I want to see you, how much I would love to have you with me. I know very well that I cannot keep you, that the abomination of life together is not for us, but I feel as if I haven’t had you for years. And I lost the taste for life, for walks, the sun, women. I only kept the bitter and terrible taste of love. If I could hold you in my arms, I would go back to being what I was for you in a few moments. I adore you, only you exist from all eternity. My little Gala, beautiful, my dear, maia dorogaia, my little one, my love, I’ll die if I’m without you.
6. From Jean-Paul Sartre to Simone de Beauvoir
Simone was Sartre’s wife for over 50 years. Both philosophers were a very liberal couple for their time. Both had extramarital affairs, but the bond they shared was unbreakable.
My dear little girl: For a long time I wanted to write you in the afternoon, right after those outings with friends that I will soon be describing in “A Defeat”, the kind where the world is ours. I wanted to bring you my conqueror’s joys and place them at your feet, as they did in the Age of the Sun King. And then, exhausted by the screaming, he was just going to bed. Today I do it to feel the pleasure that you still don’t know, of turning abruptly from friendship to love, from strength to tenderness. Tonight, I love you in a way that you still don’t know about me: I’m not exhausted by travel or wrapped up in the desire for your presence. I am mastering my love for you and taking it into my interior as a constitutive element of myself. This occurs much more often than I admit to you, but hardly when I write to you. Try to understand me: I love you as long as you pay attention to external things. In Toulouse, I simply loved you. Tonight I love you on a spring afternoon. I love you with the window open. You are mine, and things are mine, and my love changes things around me and things around me change my love.
7. From Frida Kahlo to Diego Rivera
Diego and Frida were married in 1929, only to find out later that Diego was not a faithful spouse. So they could not be together, but neither could they be apart. Therefore, they decided to have an open relationship, which for Frida resulted in a great depression that led her to an obsession with Diego.
My love, today I remembered you, even if you don’t deserve it. I have to admit that I love you. How can I forget that day when I asked you about my paintings for the first time. I, naive girl, you, great lord with your lustful look, gave me the answer to my satisfaction for seeing me happy, without even knowing me, you encouraged me, to move on. My Diego of the soul, remember that I will always love you, even if you are not by my side. I, in my solitude, tell you, loving is not a sin to God. Love, I still tell you, if you want to come back, I’ll always be waiting for you. Your absence kills me, you make a virtue of your memory. You are the non-existent God each time your image is revealed to me. I ask my heart why…
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