Heloise and Abelard; the power of letters

“…we are much fonder of the pictures of those we love when they are at a great distance than when they are near us. It seems to me as if the farther they are removed their pictures grow the more finished, and acquire a greater resemblance; or least our imagination, which perpetually figures them to us by the desire we have of seeing them again, makes us think so.


… If a picture, which is but a mute representation of an object, can give such pleasure, what cannot letters inspire?

They have souls;


They can speak


they have in them all that force which expresses the transports of the heart;

they have all the fire of our passions, they can raise them as much as if the person themselves were present;

they have all the tenderness and the delicacy of speech,

and sometimes even a boldness of expression beyond it."

As promised.

Photos are from here, here, here and here. I am so enamoured with all of these photographers. My flickr favourites are filled with them.

I love the art of letter writing with a passion, and I miss it the romance and artistry of constructing something so beautiful out of the written word. This weekend my best friend and I explored a beautiful forgotten little stationary shop in a laneway in the city, and I almost blew my weeks pay buying supplies. There is something so fullfilling in writing a letter; in paper and ink and envelopes stuffed with secrets.

You can read more of H&A's love letters here.

xS

firefly

firefly, originally uploaded by mariehochhaus.

'My tears, which I could not refrain, have blotted half your letter; I wish they had effaced the whole, and that I had returned it to you in that condition; I should then have been satisfied with the little time I kept it; but it was demanded of me too soon.'
- Heloise

My best friend is angry at me and I don't know why. We haven't spoken in three days, which may not seem like an incredible amount of time, but for us it is.

I don't fight with people. So I don't know what to do. I can never manage to be angry at anyone for very long. Grudges are beyond me.

Everytime I think about it I feel like taking some kind of action to end the rift, but as I've done nothing I don't know how I can. I can only wait until he perceives his own absurdity.

The quote is from one of the letters between the famous lovers, Heloise and Abelard, whose tragic romance has always inspired me. Their story has a place in the hearts of many others, including, I beleive, Charlie Kaufman, who has included references to the pair in his screenplays to both 'Being John Malkovich' and 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind' (the name itself taken from the Alexander Pope poem 'Eloisa to Abelard', about the tragedy of their seperation).

Heloise's letters are beautiful, and I think that, to keep me busy, my next post will be inspired by them.

xS