Romantic Correspondence Quotes

There is no single thing... that is so cut and dried that one cannot attend to its secret whisper which says 'I am more than just my appearance'. If each object quivers with readiness to imply something other than itself, if each perception is a word in a poem dense with connotations, then the poet's selection of any given subject of speculation will become... a means of attuning himself to the rhythms and harmonies of reality at large. ... The notion of a network of correspondence is not an outmoded Romantic illusion: it represents a crucial intuition...

Existentialism “every appearance in nature corresponds to some state of the mind,” we have entered the familiar Wordsworthian Romantic territory in which nature is phenomena and spirit is noumena and the task of the human person is to draw his being from whatever inscrutable force produces, organizes, and infuses the phenomenal universe —an “ineffable essence which we call Spirit. Being as not being stable but forever in flux and transition. Even history, Which seems obviously about the past, has its true use as the servant of the present.' Emerson and Buddhism stand for spirituality purged of creed detritus.' the essence of Existentialism is that you find meaning in nature, wisdom, mind and body.

Perhaps you should put an advertisement in the papers. You can have it listed under livestock. Stallion sought, something like that." Now, that was uncalled for, and outright rude. "What a splendid idea," she responded. "Only why play with metaphors? The direct approach is always best. How does this sound? Gentlemen required for a temporary affair of convenience. Unexceptionable reference from previous lovers required. Must be willing to be named in criminal correspondence. Should be presentable, experienced, and have a strong back.

Dr. Helen Fisher divides love into three categories that correspond to different hormones and brain systems. Her analysis of the data suggests that high androgen and estrogen levels generate lust, romantic love correlates with high dopamine and norepinephrine and low serotonin, and attachment is driven by oxytocin and vasopressin. To make matters more complicated, these three systems interact. For example, testosterone can “kickstart the two love neurotransmitters while an orgasm can elevate the attachment hormone,” according to Fisher. “Don’t copulate with people you don’t want to fall in love with,” she warns.4

Reading private correspondence is in poor taste, Lord Ackerly.” “Unless it is terribly interesting,” Eleanor says, “which Jessamin’s letters are not. Mine, however, are lurid tales of my near-death experience and subsequent sequestering against my will in the home of the mysterious and brooding Lord Ackerly. I fear I may have given you a tragic past and a deadly secret or two.” “Are we staying in a decaying Gothic abbey?” I ask. “Naturally. When I’m finished, there won’t be a person in all the city who isn’t writhing with jealousy over the heart-pounding drama of my life.” She pauses, tapping her pen thoughtfully against her chin. “I don’t suppose you have a cousin? I could very much use a romantic foil.” Finn shakes his head. “Sorry to disappoint.” “Alas. As long as I’m not the friend who meets a tragic end that brings you two together forever through shared grief.” Her line meets dead silence, and a sly grin splits her face. “Oh wait, I nearly was.

Song When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget. I shall not see the shadows, I shall not feel the rain; I shall not hear the nightingale Sing on, as if in pain: And dreaming through the twilight That doth not rise nor set, Haply I may remember, And haply may forget. Sir Thomas Wyatt has been credited with introducing the Petrarchan sonnet into the English language. Wyatt's father had been one of Henry VII's Privy Councilors and remained a trusted adviser when Henry VIII came to the throne in 1509. Wyatt followed his father to court, but it seems the young poet may have fallen in love with the king’s mistress, Anne Boleyn. Their acquaintance is certain, although whether or not the two actually shared a romantic relationship remains unknown. But in his poetry, Wyatt called his mistress Anna and there do seem to be correspondences. For instance, this poem might well have been written about the King’s claim on Anne Boleyn:

My friend is not "mistrustful" of me, no, because she don't fear I shall make mainprize of the stray cloaks & umbrellas down-stairs, or turn an article for "Colburn's" on her sayings & doings up-stairs--but, spite of that, she does mistrust . . . so mistrust my common sense; nay, uncommon and dramatic-poet's sense, if I am put on asserting it!--all which pieces of mistrust I could detect, and catch struggling, and pin to death in a moment, and put a label on, with name, genus & species, just like a horrible entomologist; only I wo'n't, because the first visit of the North wind will carry the whole tribe into the Red Sea--and those horns and tails and scalewings are best forgotten altogether.

Now, what on earth does that mean, especially if one does not spiritualize it away, as Matthew immediately did, into “poor [or destitute] in spirit”—that is, the spiritually humble or religiously obedient? Did Jesus really think that bums and beggars were actually blessed by God, as if all the destitute were nice people and all the aristocrats correspondingly evil? Is this some sort of naive or romantic delusion about the charms of destitution? If, however, we think not just of personal or individual evil but of social, structural, or systemic injustice—that is, of precisely the imperial situation in which Jesus and his fellow peasants found themselves—then the saying becomes literally, terribly, and permanently true. In any situation of oppression, especially in those oblique, indirect, and systemic ones where injustice wears a mask of normalcy or even of necessity, the only ones who are innocent or blessed are those squeezed out deliberately as human junk from the system’s own evil operations. A contemporary equivalent: only the homeless are innocent. That is a terrifying aphorism against society because, like the aphorisms against the family, it focuses not just on personal or individual abuse of power but on such abuse in its systemic or structural possibilities—and there, in contrast to the former level, none of our hands are innocent or our consciences particularly clear.

The steel faithfully taught me the correspondence between the spirit and the body: thus feeble emotions, it seemed to me, corresponded to flaccid muscles, sentimentality to a sagging stomach, and overimpressionability to an oversensitive, white skin. Bulging muscles, a taut stomach, and a tough skin, I reasoned, would correspond respectively to an intrepid fighting spirit, the power of dispassionate intellectual judgement, and a robust disposition. I hasten to point out here that I do not believe ordinary people to be like this. Even my own scanty experience is enough to furnish me with innumerable examples of timid minds encased within bulging muscles. Yet, as I have already pointed out, words for me came before the flesh, so that intrepidity, dispassionateness, robustness, and all those emblems of moral character summed up by words, needed to manifest themselves in outward, bodily tokens. For that reason, I told myself, I ought to endow myself with the physical characteristics in question as a kind of educative process. Beyond the educative process there also lurked another, romantic design. The romantic impulse that had formed an undercurrent in me from boyhood on, and that made sense only as the destruction of classical perfection, lay waiting within me. Like a theme in an operatic overture that is later destined to occur throughout the whole work, it laid down a definitive pattern for me before I had achieved anything in practice. Specifically, I cherished a romantic impulse towards death, yet at the same time I required a strictly classical body as its vehicle; a peculiar sense of destiny made me believe that the reason why my romantic impulse towards death remained unfulfilled in reality was the immensely simple fact that I lacked the necessary physical qualifications. A powerful, tragic frame and sculpturesque muscles were indispensable in a romantically noble death.

A thorough survey of Randolph’s reading defeats such an effort. The Virginian had, certainly, a lively interest in the writers of his day, but his admiration for the Romantics was strictly qualified, as his correspondence with Francis Walker Gilmer, Brockenbrough, Francis Scott Key, and Josiah Quincy shows.

Pentacles/Earth: Earth is the bedrock and foundations of our everyday life, the mundane world, and our physical bodies. It asks us to think about our daily survival, money, fortune, family, home, environment, health, and work or career. Swords/Air: Air is the element of our breath, and therefore the element of communication and particularly the spoken word. It is further associated with the world of ideas—thoughts, attitudes, and beliefs. Wands/Fire: Fire is the element of desire, drive, passion, ambition, creativity, and sexuality. It corresponds to ego and individuality, and the power of manifestation. Cups/Water: Water is the element of our emotions and intuition, as well as everything that connects us to others. It is concerned with our romantic relationships as well as our and social ones.

2012 Andy’s Correspondence   Young, Young, Young, you do have a way with words. Your seductive writing is temptation for me to lust after you, not to mention your romantic description of our lovemaking. You’ve charmed me to irresistible covetousness. LOL!               None of my other charges had the magnetism that you did. I’m sure you knew that during our time together. As much as I adored Albert, I was not smitten by him as with you. It would be cynical of me to say I don’t feel the connection you and I shared even to this day. Love never dissipates but grows with each passing day. This emotion lies dormant and buried within our subconscious until the right moment triggers its resurgence. I believe you already know my sentiment. Need I say more?☺               The poppy-field experience was just one of many soul connections we shared in our journey through oneness and unity. As Laozi wrote in the opening lines of the Tao Te Ching, the Tao that can be named is not the eternal Tao; as soon as it is named, a dichotomy is created, and it is lost. Oneness means just that: only one. The instant we label or name it, it’s something else — it’s no longer unity…

Things have been really interesting in your little bar,” Mel said. “A little tense and steamy.” He laughed. “Think someone should take Luke aside and warn him about this place?” “I thought you’d finally learned your lesson,” she teased him. “You’ve been in the business of almost every romantic relationship in this town….” “Yeah, but this one’s different. The second Shelby saw him, it was a target lock on. She wants him. Can you see the struggle on his face? He’s getting lines.” “Yeah, what’s that about?” Mel asked. “She’s adorable. You’d think he’d be thrilled.” “Well, the first night he met her he said he took one look at her and thought he was going to be arrested. He might be having a little trouble with her age.” “Phooey,” Mel said. “There’s quite a nice difference in our ages.” She grabbed his thigh. “I’m catching up with you, however.” “Then there’s the general,” Jack said. “Kind of intimidating…” “Oh, Walt’s a pussycat,” she said. “And I think he likes Luke. They have the army in common.” “Luke’s either going to give in or explode,” Jack said. “How do you know he hasn’t? Given in.” “Have you taken a good look at him? At his posture, his eyes? Believe me, he’d be a lot looser. He hasn’t unloaded in a long time.” “Jack!” she said. “And the funny thing is, Shelby’s downright serene,” Jack said, completely ignoring his wife’s scold. “She’s a very unusual woman.” “What do you mean?” “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror when it’s been a long time for us?” he asked. “It’s all over your face when you need to be taken care of.” He grinned at her. “It is not!” she said, giving him a whack on the arm. But she laughed at him, and secretly knew he was right. She also knew why Shelby didn’t look that way. Shelby, virginal, hadn’t been satisfied by a man yet; she didn’t ache with longing for her lover. “It’s hardly ever been a long time for us,” she pointed out. “Which is how I like it,” he said. “Then take the general,” he said. “Talk about a satisfied man…” “You can’t possibly know that. Walt neither looks nor acts any differently than he ever did,” she insisted. “The general looks like a beautiful woman moved in next door and he’s doing his best to be a good neighbor. He’s got a twinkle in his eye and a very sly grin.” Mel turned toward him and narrowed her eyes. “Do you really think you know what facial expressions correspond exactly to a man’s getting laid?” “I do,” he said with a smile. “In fact, I consider myself something of an expert.” She

They lived in the same house,” McCullough writes, “worked together six days a week, ate their meals together, kept their money in a joint bank account, even ‘thought together,’ Wilbur said.” Neither brother ever married or, apparently, had romantic attachments. The most important woman in their life was their younger sister, Katharine, whose steadfast devotion to her brilliant brothers would be difficult to accept as anything but cliché were it not for the evidence in her correspondence with her brothers. These letters are a large part of the record of what happened at Kitty Hawk, N.C., ideal material for McCullough’s narrative gifts as he unreels the unlikely story that took place on that thin strip of beach. The Wrights had the good wishes and eager

The following behaviors describe insufficient self-esteem. When you hear any of these behaviors, it’s very likely your client has a self-esteem theme. They believe they don’t deserve or are not good enough. They wind up believing the “inner voice” — the one that keeps telling them, “You aren’t good enough”; “You don’t know enough”; “That’s for other people, not for you”; “You couldn’t possibly succeed at that”; “You have no luck — don’t even bother trying.” A corresponding metaphor: It seems like everyone else has gone to the party while you’ve chosen to stay home wishing you had gone. They overcompensate. They take excessive measures, attempting to correct or make amends for an error, weakness, or problem. For example, one parent believes the other is too strict or too lenient and goes too far the other way to make up for it. They do things for other people to make themselves feel better. While it’s always nice to do things for other people, sometimes the motive is wanting to feel better about oneself versus simply helping someone else. They compromise on things they shouldn’t. They might let go of or give up on an idea or value to please someone else. They get into or stay in toxic relationships. Relationships — whether with those at work, with friends, or with romantic partners — can be damaging to our self-esteem. Yet because they devalue themselves, they rationalize and justify that it’s okay. They tolerate unacceptable behavior. Because they believe they aren’t good enough, they allow people to say and do mean or inappropriate things to them. When they stay stuck in the way they allow others to take advantage of them, it’s usually because there’s a subtle, underlying reason they want to keep the pain and anguish with them. They might think that they will get attention or feel important, or maybe feeling sorry or sad is more familiar and comfortable. They don’t believe they deserve to be treated well.

We see, therefore, that in the field of science, there are two kinds of phantasy. The first reaches out to the external world and, by maintaining a connection with that world which corresponds to its real workings, becomes a fruitful hypothesis. The second, making no such connection with the external world, is ultimately dismissed as a delusion. These two kinds of phantasy can also be distinguished in the arts. When a great writer like Tolstoy uses his imagination to tell a story and to invent characters which both deeply move us and which become immortal, we righdy suppose that his phantasies are connecting with external reality and illuminating that reality for us. On the other hand, we recognize that the phantasies of lesser writers, perhaps manifesting themselves as ‘thrillers’ or ‘romantic’ novels, have little to do with the real world and may, indeed, be no more than an attempt to escape from it.

The knowledge Raine spoke of and sought in her ‘real poets’ formed what she called ‘the learning of the imagination’, a teaching that was not about the imagination but was the imagination itself. Its curriculum was made up of the symbols, metaphors and images that informed her favourite poetry – with Owen Barfield she shared a love of the Romantics – and which constituted much of the ‘hollowed out’ iconography that the modern soul misunderstood and often did its best to undermine. ‘Tradition,’ she wrote in her major work on Blake, ‘is the record of imaginative experience’. ‘Traditional metaphysics’ – that of Pythagoras, Plato and Plotinus – ‘is neither vague, personal or arbitrary’, as the learned dons at Cambridge had tried to convince her it was. ‘It is the recorded history of imaginative thought and has … an accompanying language of symbol and myth’.42 This is Henry Corbin’s mundus imaginalis, ‘a very precise order of reality, which corresponds to a precise mode of perception’: the true imagination.

The knowledge Raine spoke of and sought in her ‘real poets’ formed what she called ‘the learning of the imagination’, a teaching that was not about the imagination but was the imagination itself. Its curriculum was made up of the symbols, metaphors and images that informed her favourite poetry – with Owen Barfield she shared a love of the Romantics – and which constituted much of the ‘hollowed out’ iconography that the modern soul misunderstood and often did its best to undermine. ‘Tradition,’ she wrote in her major work on Blake, ‘is the record of imaginative experience’. ‘Traditional metaphysics’ – that of Pythagoras, Plato and Plotinus – ‘is neither vague, personal or arbitrary’, as the learned dons at Cambridge had tried to convince her it was. ‘It is the recorded history of imaginative thought and has … an accompanying language of symbol and myth’.42 This is Henry Corbin’s mundus imaginalis, ‘a very precise order of reality, which corresponds to a precise mode of perception’: the true imagination

There are several lines of evidence that suggest that men might, in fact, be able to detect when women ovulate (Symons, 1995). First, during ovulation, women’s skin becomes suffused with blood. This corresponds to the “glow” that women sometimes appear to have, a healthy reddening of the cheeks. Second, women’s skin lightens slightly during ovulation as compared with other times of the menstrual cycle—a cue universally thought to be a sexual attractant (Frost, 2011; van den Berghe & Frost, 1986). A cross-cultural survey found that “of the 51 societies for which any mention of native skin preferences… is made, 47 state a preference for the lighter end of the locally represented spectrum, although not necessarily for the lightest possible skin color” (van den Berghe & Frost, 1986, p. 92). Third, during ovulation, women’s level of circulating estrogen increases, which produces a corresponding decrease in women’s WHR (Symons, 1995, p. 93). Fourth, ovulating women are touched more often by men in singles bars (Grammer, 1996). Fifth, men find the body odor of women to be more attractive and pleasant smelling during the follicular (fertile) stage of the menstrual cycle (Gildersleeve, Haselton, Larson, & Pillsworth, 2012; Havlicek, Dvorakova, Bartos, & Flegr, 2005; Singh & Bronstad, 2001). Sixth, men who smell T-shirts worn by ovulating women display a subsequent rise in testosterone levels compared to men who smell shirts worn by non-ovulating women or shirts with a control scent (Miller & Maner, 2010), although a subsequent study failed to replicate this effect (Roney & Simmons, 2012). Seventh, there are vocal cues to ovulation—women’s voices rise in pitch, in the attractive feminine direction, at ovulation (Bryant & Haselton, 2009). Eighth, women’s faces are judged by both sexes to be more attractive during the fertile than during the luteal phase (Puts et al., 2013; Roberts et al., 2004). Ninth, men perceive their romantic partners to be more attractive around ovulation (Cobey, Buunk, Pollet, Klipping, & Roberts, 2013). Tenth, women report feeling more attractive and desirable, as well as an increased interest in sex, around the time of ovulation (R ö der, Brewer, & Fink, 2009). And 11th, a study of professional lap dancers working in gentlemen’s clubs found that ovulating women received significantly higher tips than women in the non-ovulation phases of their cycle (Miller, Tybur, & Jordan, 2007).

Works of post-Wagnerian modernism, Ulysses included, superimpose myth and modernity in a way that promises a comprehensive revelation of the world, both its variegated surfaces and its primordial roots. In The Waste Land, such correspondences tend to break down. Archetypes float up from the depths of the past, but they ultimately find little lasting resonance in contemporary lives. Instead, they provide a reassuring clutter of allusions for the stranded intellect: "These fragments I have shored against my ruins." In that sense, Eliot's poem is, more than Ulysses, an irrevocably anti-Romantic, anti-Wagnerian work.

Chia’s research pulls back the curtain on our ambivalence toward talent and effort. What we say we care about may not correspond with what—deep down—we actually believe to be more valuable. It’s a little like saying we don’t care at all about physical attractiveness in a romantic partner and then, when it comes to actually choosing whom to date, picking the cute guy over the nice one.

Dashingly handsome," Fin says. "Beg pardon?" I blow on the paper to hasten the drying of the ink. "You forgot 'dashingly handsome'. Dear friend is nice but hardly covers the extent of my qualities." Eleanor looks up from her own letter writing. "How did she describe me? Because I have always preferred my eyes to be referred to as the 'color of storm-tossed sea'. If either of you were wondering." "You did not fare much better. In fact, I think I am ahead. I am a 'dear friend', and you are merely 'recently ill'." I push the letter aside and face him. "Reading private correspondence is in poor taste, Lord Ackerly." "Unless it is terribly interesting," Eleanor says, "which Jessamin's letters are not. Mine, however, are lurid tales of my near-death experience and subsequent sequestering against my will in the home of the mysterious and brooding Lord Ackerly. I fear I may have given you a tragic past and a deadly secret or two." "Are we staying in a decaying Gothic abbey?" I ask. "Naturally. When I'm finished, there won't be a person in all the city who isn't writing with jealousy over the heart-pounding drama of my life." She pauses, tapping her pen thoughtfully against her chin. "I don't suppose you have a cousin? I could very much use a romantic foil." Finn shakes his head. "Sorry to disappoint." "Alas. As long as I'm not the friend who meets a tragic end that brings you two together forever through shared grief." Her line meets dead silence, and a sly grin splits her face. "Oh wait, I nearly was." "Horrible girl." I tug her ear as I walk past.

Consideration of the origins of repetition-compulsion eventually led Freud to infer the existence of the death instinct, a drive that lends support to all forms of self-defeating behaviour and ultimately self-destruction. He justified the notion with recourse to a law of nature: organisms evolve from inanimate matter and must inevitably return to the inanimate state. This common destiny finds correspondences in our thoughts and predispositions. When we engage in selfdefeating behaviours, we are allowing the death instinct to carry us a little closer to oblivion.

Why this weak indulgent puppet of France and the Roman Catholic Church should have become such a romantic figure in Scottish myth is inexplicable. (So peculiar was this last Jacobite rebellion that some historical pespective is necessary: it took place while Benjamin Franklin was corresponding with his English associates on electricity, the brothers Adam were still at the University of Edinburgh, and the idea of building a new town was forming in the imagination of Provost [George] Drummond.)