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Put networks and things if you're into that kind of stuff.
Meanwhile in my head, I'm undergoing open-heart surgery - Anne Sexton
"…I have lived through worse times, and am still more or less alive, and if I am not going to write for myself, I shall have more time to write to you, to enjoy the nearness of you, this nearness which I have created by thinking, by writing, and by fighting with all the strength of my soul—but you, you will not be able to love me any more."
- Franz Kafka, from Letters To Felice
"Yes, I miss you, I miss you."
- Virginia Woolf, from a letter to Vita Sackville-West 
"The doors are shut, all is quiet, I am with you once more. How many things does “to be with you” mean by now? I have not slept all day, and while I duly went about all the afternoon and early evening with a heavy head and a befogged brain, now, as night sets in, I am almost excited, feel within me a tremendous desire to write; the demon inhabiting the writing urge begins to stir at most inopportune moments."
- Franz Kafka, from Letters To Felice
"…and then I felt a great, clear, violent pain — so passionate that it bordered on happiness."
- Simone de Beauvoir, from Letters To Sartre
"I’m not tragic these days, I don’t weep, but I feel alone, bewildered, far from you, far from everything — nothing has any meaning."
- Simone de Beauvoir, from Letters To Sartre
"You did not understand what I am. I am love. I am pleasure, I am essence, I am an idiot, I am an alcoholic, I am tenacious. I am; simply I am…You are a shit."
- Frida Kahlo, from an unsent letter to Diego Rivera
"God I wish I could see you. You are the only guy in or out of Europe I can say as much for (or against) but I certainly would like to see you."
- Ernest Hemingway, from a letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald
- Ernest Hemingway, from a letter to F. Scott Fitzgerald
"I would have enjoyed taking the clothes off Virginia Woolf this noon and permitting her to walk down the Avenue de L’Opera letting every one, truth, reality, whatever she liked — pass her close each time."
- Ernest Hemingway, from Selected Letters 1917 - 1961 
"And then we’re broken and what good did that do? So I have that to think about all day and all night - and the worry is like a band of some sort across the inside of the top of my head - and there isn’t anything else. All I can think is that you that are all that I have and that I love more than all that is and have given up everything for and betrayed everything for and killed off everything for are being destroyed and your nerves and your spirit broken all time day and night and that I can’t do anything about it because you won’t let me."
- Ernest Hemingway, from Selected Letters 1917 - 1961
"And I’ve sense enough to know when I think all the time that I want to die that I’m just a fool because what I think about as wanting to die is just to have oblivion until I can have you…"
- Ernest Hemingway, from Selected Letters 1917 - 1961