Saturday, February 28, 2015

Friday, February 27, 2015

Thursday, February 26, 2015


Dear Valeria,

Today, a young man on acid realized that all matter is merely energy condensed to a slow vibration—that we are all one consciousness experiencing itself subjectively. There is no such thing as death, life is only a dream, and we're the imagination of ourselves. Here's Tom with the weather.

Peace, out,

Bill Hicks

Wednesday, February 25, 2015


Dear Valeria,

And there is another feeling, one which he shares with most of humankind. He knows he’s screwed up his life, or something has twisted it. Every thinking man and woman knows this. Even the smug and dimwitted realize this unconsciously. But a baby, that beautiful being, that unsmirched blank tablet, unformed angel, represents a new hope. Perhaps it won’t screw up. Perhaps it’ll grow up to be a healthy confident reasonable good-humored unselfish loving man or woman. ‘It won't be like me or my next-door neighbor,’ the proud, but apprehensive, parent swears.

Best regards,

Philip José Farmer

Tuesday, February 24, 2015


Dear Valeria,

She screamed. Either she was terrified of my getting control of her or her pain overwhelmed her. I had not bitten her for nourishment or out of affection. I meant to destroy her throat, tear it to pieces. She let go of my shoulders to grab my head and push my face away, and in the instant of opportunity that gave me, I went for a better grip on her with my teeth. I bit through her larynx. She would do no more screaming for a while. And I broke her neck — or tried to. I wasn't sure whether I managed it or not because I lost consciousness before the worst of my own pain could catch up with me.

And then it was over.

All my love,

Octavia Butler

Monday, February 23, 2015


Dear Valeria,

The poetical mind has no self – it is every thing and nothing – It has no character – it enjoys light and shade. What shocks the virtuous philosopher, delights the chameleon Poet. It does no harm from its relish of the dark side of things any more than from its taste for the bright one; because they both end in speculation. A Poet is the most unpoetical of any thing in existence; because he has no Identity – he is continually in for – and filling some other Body – The Sun, the Moon, the Sea and Men and Women who are creatures of impulse are poetical and have about them an unchangeable attribute – the poet has none; no identity – he is certainly the most unpoetical of all God's Creatures.

Much love,

John Keats

Sunday, February 22, 2015


Dear Valeria,

At the times in my life when I was feeling the most gregarious and looking for bosom friendships, I couldn’t find any takers so that exactly when I was alone was when I felt the most like not being alone. The moment I decided I’d rather be alone and not have anyone telling me their problems, everybody I’d never even seen before in my life started running after me to tell me things I’d just decided I didn't think it was a good idea to hear about. As soon as I became a loner in my own mind, that’s when I got what you might call a “following.” As soon as you stop wanting something you get it. I’ve found that to be absolutely axiomatic.

All yours,

Andy Warhol

Saturday, February 21, 2015


Dear Valeria,

I don’t mean go out and get violent; but at the same time you should never be nonviolent unless you run into some nonviolence. I’m nonviolent with those who are nonviolent with me. But when you drop that violence on me, then you’ve made me go insane, and I’m not responsible for what I do. And that’s the way every Negro should get. Any time you know you’re within the law, within your legal rights, within your moral rights, in accord with justice, then die for what you believe in. But don’t die alone. Let your dying be reciprocal. This is what is meant by equality. What’s good for the goose is good for the gander.


Malcolm X
El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz

Friday, February 20, 2015


Dear Valeria,

I have often been asked, how I felt when first I found myself on free soil. And my readers may share the same curiosity. There is scarcely anything in my experience about which I could not give a more satisfactory answer. A new world had opened upon me. If life is more than breath, and the ‘quick round of blood,’ I lived more in one day than in a year of my slave life. It was a time of joyous excitement which words can but tamely describe. In a letter written to a friend soon after reaching New York, I said: ‘I felt as one might feel upon escape from a den of hungry lions.’ Anguish and grief, like darkness and rain, may be depicted; but gladness and joy, like the rainbow, defy the skill of pen or pencil.

Best regards,

Frederick Douglass

Thursday, February 19, 2015


Dear Valeria,

But the wind does not stop for my thoughts. It whips across the flooded gravel pits drumming up waves on their waters that glint hard and metallic in the night, over the shingle, rustling the dead gorse and skeletal bugloss, running in rivulets through the parched grass — while I sit here in the dark holding a candle that throws my divided shadow across the room and gathers my thoughts to the flame like moths.

Best wishes,

Derek Jarman

Wednesday, February 18, 2015


Dear Valeria,

I ascended on Fragrant Hill in the friendly season of spring.
Not discouraged I climbed to the peak and met the Golden Face;
Flowers shone bright rays and auspicious colors gleamed like a rainbow,
Incense smoke wafted like mist and a blessed light emanated.

Raindrops were like bubbles on jade bamboos at the edge of the big rock;
The blowing wind played a song among the green pines at the mountain pass.
In front of the Buddha in the temple I conducted the incense ceremony,
And on the way back I rode a Blue Dragon in the royal carriage.


Qubilai, known as Kublai Khan, 5th Emperor of all the Mongols

Tuesday, February 17, 2015


Dear Valeria,

The universe is then one, infinite, immobile… It is not capable of comprehension and therefore is endless and limitless, and to that extent infinite and indeterminable, and consequently immobile.


Giordano Bruno

Monday, February 16, 2015


Dear Valeria,

I’m interested in the division that Judeo-Christianity has made between human nature and animal nature. None of the other great faiths in the world have got quite that division between us and them. None of the others has made this enormous division between birds and beasts who, as Darwin said, would have developed consciences if they’d had the chance, and us. I think it’s one of the scars in Western Europe. I think it’s one of the scars in our culture that we have too high an opinion of ourselves. We align ourselves with the angels instead of the higher primates.

Best regards,

Angela Carter

Sunday, February 15, 2015


Dear Valeria,

The prison of life and the bondage of grief are one and the same
Before the onset of death, how can man expect to be free of grief?


Mirza Asadullah Baig Khan

Saturday, February 14, 2015


Dear Valeria,

All presumptive evidence of felony should be admitted cautiously; for the law holds it better that ten guilty persons escape, than that one innocent party suffer.

Yrs sincerely,

William Blackstone, KC SL.

Friday, February 13, 2015


Liebe Valeria,

Beste Grüße,

Richard Wagner

Thursday, February 12, 2015


Dear Valeria,


Anna Anderson
aka Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna of Russia
née Franziska Schanzkowska

Wednesday, February 11, 2015


Dear Valeria,

And I admit it would be easier for me to concede matter and extension to the soul, than the capacity of moving a body and of being moved, to an immaterial being. For, if the first occurred through 'information; the spirits that perform the movement would have to be intelligent, which you accord to nothing corporeal. And although in your metaphysical meditations you show the possibility of the second, it is, however, very difficult to comprehend that a soul, as you have described it, after having had the faculty and habit of reasoning well, can lose all of it on account of some vapors, and that, although it can subsist without the body and has nothing in common with it, is yet so ruled by it.

Sincerely yours,

Elizabeth of the Palatinate, Princess of Bohemia

Tuesday, February 10, 2015


Dear Valeria,

In an honest service there is thin commons, low wages, and hard labour. In this, plenty and satiety, pleasure and ease, liberty and power; and who would not balance creditor on this side, when all the hazard that is run for it, at worst is only a sour look or two at choking? No, a merry life and a short one shall be my motto.

Aye aye,

Bartholomew “Black Bart” Roberts

Monday, February 9, 2015


Dear Valeria,

“You're a gentleman,” they used to say to him. “You shouldn't have gone murdering people with a hatchet; that's no occupation for a gentleman.”


Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoyevsky

Sunday, February 8, 2015


Dear Valeria,

The darkness and loneliness of our vast forests filled me with indescribable emotions, and above all other sounds, the music of the thousand Eolian harps sighing and wailing through a forest of pines, was most affecting to my youthful heart.

All my best,

Mary Shindler

Saturday, February 7, 2015


Dear Valeria,

Sometimes after an hour of apathy, my strange and beautiful companion would take my hand and hold it with a fond pressure, renewed again and again; blushing softly, gazing in my face with languid and burning eyes, and breathing so fast that her dress rose and fell with the tumultuous respiration. It was like the ardour of a lover; it embarrassed me; it was hateful and yet overpowering; and with gloating eyes she drew me to her, and her hot lips travelled along my cheek in kisses; and she would whisper, almost in sobs, “You are mine, you shall be mine, and you and I are one for ever”.


Sheridan Le Fanu


Cara Valeria,


Bartolommeo Bandinelli

Friday, February 6, 2015


Chère Valeria,

Je suis de race berbère et j’ignore à quel point vous nous sous-estimez, mais j’affirme cependant que les berbères sont des gens avancés, qui ont hérité de nombreuses civilisations. Vous ignorez par exemple qu’en tant que berbère, je suis d’origine juive. Mes ancêtres sont ensuite devenus chrétiens, puis musulmans. Maintenant, nous parlons l’arabe, langue du Coran, nous nous entendons en berbère, langue de nos aïeux, mais nous conversons aussi en français, langue de notre pays asservi.


Muhammad Ibn 'Abd el-Karim El-Khattabi (dit Abdelkrim)

Thursday, February 5, 2015


Dear Valeria,

The Beatles came backstage after one of my lectures, and they said to me: “Even from an early age we have been seeking a highly spiritual existence. We tried drugs and that didn't work.” They are such practical and intelligent young boys that it took them only two days to find that Transcendental Meditation is the answer.

Peace and love,

Maharishi Mahesh Yogi

Wednesday, February 4, 2015


Dear Valeria,

This process of the good life is not, I am convinced, a life for the faint-hearted. It involves the stretching and growing of becoming more and more of one’s potentialities. It involves the courage to be. It means launching oneself fully into the stream of life.

Very best,

Carl Rogers

Tuesday, February 3, 2015


Dear Valeria,

I'm still struggling for the image of women in film and I'm still working, not as much as I would like to because for a woman in her late forties, it's hard to find work. Not only in France. I had a chat with Anjelica Huston last year. We spoke about the same problem, you know. I don't know where it comes from? The writers, the producers, or the directors. But I think it's a pity even for the public. We get a response to see a mature woman in film. We see many, many macho men in film. An actress like Meryl Streep doesn't work as much as Bob De Niro.


Maria Schneider

Monday, February 2, 2015


Dear Valeria,

One always hears of actors complaining of being typed - if he's young, he's typed as a juvenile; if he's handsome, he's typed as a leading man. I was lucky. Whereas bootmakers have to spend millions to establish a trademark, I was handed a trademark free of charge. When an actor gets in a position to select his own roles, he's in big trouble, for he never knows what he can do best. I'm sure I'd be damn good as little Lord Fauntleroy, but who would pay ten cents to see it?

Your most sincerely,

Boris Karloff

Sunday, February 1, 2015


Dear Valeria,

I saw the pale student of unhallowed arts kneeling beside the thing he had put together. I saw the hideous phantasm of a man stretched out, and then, on the working of some powerful engine, show signs of life, and stir with an uneasy, half vital motion. Frightful must it be; for supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavour to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world.

Take care,

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley