Marie

Dear Valeria,

I am in Rome, and it is very wonderful (ah! it is very wonderful, very marvellous). It is cold as Russia, the water freezes in the fountains, but the cold would be nothing if it was only the cold. Since morning we have been in search of an apartment, and we have seen only one. I did not have courage to go up when they pointed out a black, yawning hole, dirty and frightful. I have looked in vain for a house with any resemblance to the French houses. I find only ruins or cracked columns. No doubt it is very beautiful, but agree with me that a good, comfortable apartment is infinitely more pleasant, though less artistic.

Regards,

Marie Konstantinovna Bashkirtzeff

Joseph

Dear Valeria,

I know that my retirement will make no difference in my newspaper’s cardinal principles, that it will always fight for progress and reform, never tolerate injustice or corruption, always fight demagogues of all parties, never belong to any party, always oppose privileged classes and public plunderers, never lack sympathy with the poor, always remain devoted to the public welfare, never be satisfied with merely printing news, always be drastically independent, never be afraid to attack wrong, whether by predatory plutocracy or predatory poverty.

Yours sincerely,

Joseph Pullitzer

Raymond

Dear Valeria,

I don't know how long I stayed in that particular place my poor memory is not a chronometer nor a movie camera nor a phonograph nor any other sort of finely tuned machine. It's more like nature with holes empty spaces hidden nooks and crannies with rivers that trickle away so that you can never dip your foot in the same water twice and with patches of light and darkness.

your old friend,

Raymond Queneau 

Théophile

Dear Valeria,

All passes, art alone
Enduring stays to us;
The bust outlasts the throne, —
The coin, Tiberius.

yours,
Théophile Gautier

Isabelle

Dear Valeria,

A nomad I will remain for life, 
in love with distant and uncharted places.

wishing you the best trips,
Isabelle Eberhardt

Camille

Dear Valeria,

You find me at work; excuse the dust on my blouse. I sculpt my marble myself.

Regards,

Camille Claudel

Frédéric

Dear Valeria,

It is dreadful when something weighs on your mind, not to have a soul to unburden yourself to. You know what I mean. I tell my piano the things I used to tell you.

warmest regards,

Frédéric Chopin

Jean

Dear Valeria,

The most gentle regards,

Jean de Brunhoff (and Babar)

Margaretha

Dear Valeria,

My international connections are due to my work as a dancer, nothing else. Because I really did not spy, it is terrible that I cannot defend myself.

Yours,

Margaretha Geertruida Zelle
(stage name "Mata Hari")

Randall

Dear Valeria,

The Author to the Reader
I’ve read that Luther said (it’s come to me
So often that I’ve made it into meter):
And even if the world should end tomorrow
I still would plant my little apple-tree.
Here, reader, is my little apple-tree.

Kind regards,

Randall Jarrell

Antonio

Dear Valeria,

hope you'll enjoy the image of another Victrix.

Omaggi,

Antonio Canova

Anatole

Dear Valeria,

All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we can enter another.

yours,

Anatole France

Remedios

Querida Valeria,

Remedios Varo

Alfred

Dear Valeria,

I am a part of all that I have met.

Sincerely,

Alfred Tennyson

J.

Dear Valeria,

Only in my poems can I make my home.
I have found shelter in no other form.
There is no hearth I've pined for as my own. 
A tent could be uprooted in the storm.

Only in my poems can I make my home.
While I still know that I can find those doors
In wilderness, in woods, on streets or moors,
I fear no grief- no matter where I roam.

All the best,

Jan Jacob Slauerhoff

Janis

Dear Valeria,

If I hold back, I'm no good. I'm no good. 
I'd rather be good sometimes, than holding back all the time.

Rock it,

Janis Joplin

Ronnie

Dear Valeria,

I have to tell you that all through my fifty years in the business, two words have always been in my thoughts – these two words are 'What luck'. What luck to have met, in the far-off days of weekly rep, a marvellous comedian called Glenn Melvyn, who gave me my first TV job and taught me how to stutter. What luck to have been in Oxford rep when a young Peter Hall arrived as director and brought me to London's West End. What luck that James Gilbert saw me do a radio show and put me in The Frost Report. What luck that the star of that show, David Frost, put me under contract, that resulted in Porridge and Open All Hours, and who paired me with the wonderful Ronnie Corbett. What luck to have had a wife for forty-five years, who throughout my television career, sat in the audience of every show and laughed louder than anyone else. And finally, standing here before you, with this most honoured award bestowed upon me by you, what luck, what wonderful luck, to be flanked on either side by my two best friends, Ronnie Corbett and David Jason. And I might cry, Gwyneth Paltrow, watch out.

Goodnight!

Ronnie Barker

Chiyo-ni

Valeria-san,

morning glory!
the well bucket-entangled,
I ask for water

Respectfully yours,

Fukuda Chiyo-ni, Haiku Poetess

Petra

Dear Valeria,

The suffering people of this world must come together to take control of their lives, to wrest political power from their present masters pushing them towards destruction. The Earth has been mistreated and only by restoring a balance, only by living with the Earth, only by emphasising knowledge and expertise towards soft energies and soft technology for people and for life, can we overcome the patriarchal ego.

With love,

Petra Karin Kelly