How can I possibly stop loving you when it's sort of predestined? — Malcom Lowry to Carol Brown, 1926 (age 16)

There's something I want to say in this space, but it's an emptiness where there's usually a hug. — Colin Morton to Mary Lee Bragg, 1972

You do not set a high enough value on yourself if you think a man who loves you should not weave you into the fabric of his life with every thread. — Robert Service to Constance MacLean, 1903 (age 28)

You try getting any sympathy when you tell your best friends how much the self-avowed sadist broke your heart, how much pain she put you through. — Ivan E. Coyote to --------, 2004 (age 35)

Sincerity like this staggers me; I've seen too little and too much of it one way and another; I've valued it so highly that when someone hands it to me as directly as you have, I'm not sure whether I should jump for joy or burst into tears. — Gwendolyn MacEwen to Milton Acorn, 1960 (age 19)