Tag: Valentine’sDay

Belle 'Beauty and the Beast' disney book nerd single bookshelf bookcase ladder dancing singing

You Know You’re a Single Book Nerd When…

Supposedly winter is when people are most anxious to find a significant other. And yet here we are. Maybe we turn to a nice paperback for comfort. You can relate. You know you’re a single book nerd when…


1. You go to bookstores to meet attractive people rather than to buy books.




2. You show off the book you’re reading every chance you get in hopes somebody notices.




3. You compare your singleness to the rich romantic life of the character in this freaking book.




4. You assume every attractive person you see reading a book is single and definitely into you.




5. You’ve become increasingly aversed to showing your affection and would rather just return to your book.




6. Smiling at another person makes you feel vulnerable, so you just smile into your book instead.




7. You’re so afraid of rejection that you read a book, which can never reject you.




8. You’re suddenly really into Jane Austen.




9. You start memorizing love poems.




10. You don’t feel guilty about being sad because only your book sees you when you’re sad.




11. You feel romantic feelings for the person who wrote the book you’re reading.




12. You get butterflies when you see a nice book cover just like when you see a nice person.




Feature Image Via Disney

Love Letters

Grab a Tissue and Read These Love Letters to and From Famous Writers!

Love can throw you in a thousand directions. Some people mellow out completely, some people go a little crazy, and some people start out mellow and then go crazy. The first love will probably be the hardest to lose, and after that, it’s safe to say that they get better with age and experience, just like a fine wine or cheese. We have compiled a list of the eight sauciest love notes exchanged by literary all-stars.


The Aristocats

Via Metro


Zelda Fitzgerald to F. Scott Fitzgerald:


I look down the tracks and see you coming—and out of every haze & mist your darling rumpled trousers are hurrying to me—Without you, dearest dearest I couldn’t see or hear or feel or think—or live—I love you so and I’m never in all our lives going to let us be apart another night. It’s like begging for mercy of a storm or killing Beauty or growing old, without you. I want to kiss you so—and in the back where your dear hair starts and your chest—I love you—and I can’t tell you how much—To think that I’ll die without your knowing—Goofo, you’ve got to try to feel how much I do—how inanimate I am when you’re gone.


Héloïse d’Argenteuil To Peter Abélard:


I have your picture in my room. I never pass by it without stopping to look at it; and yet when you were present with me, I scare ever cast my eyes upon it. 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 transport of the heart; they have all the fire of our passions….


Honoré de Balzac to Countess Ewelina Haska, June 1835:


I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me. As for my heart, there you will always be — very much so. I have a delicious sense of you there. But my God, what is to become of me, if you have deprived me of my reason? This is a monomania which, this morning, terrifies me. I rise up every moment say to myself, ‘Come, I am going there!’ Then I sit down again, moved by the sense of my obligations. There is a frightful conflict. This is not a life. I have never before been like that. You have devoured everything. I feel foolish and happy as soon as I let myself think of you. I whirl round in a delicious dream in which in one instant I live a thousand years. What a horrible situation! Overcome with love, feeling love in every pore, living only for love, and seeing oneself consumed by griefs, and caught in a thousand spiders’ threads.


Frida Kahlo in a letter to Diego Riviera:


I’d like to paint you, but there are no colors, because there are so many, in my confusion, the tangible form of my great love.


English poet Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf:


…I am reduced to a thing that wants Virginia. I composed a beautiful letter to you in the sleepless nightmare hours of the night, and it has all gone: I just miss you, in a quite simple desperate human way. You, with all your undumb letters, would never write so elementary a phrase as that; perhaps you wouldn’t even feel it.


Jean-Paul Sartre to Simone de Beauvoir:


Tonight I love you in a way that you have not known in me: I am neither worn down by travels nor wrapped up in the desire for your presence. I am mastering my love for you and turning it inwards as a constituent element of myself. This happens much more often than I admit to you, but seldom when I’m writing to you. Try to understand me: I love you while paying attention to external things. At Toulouse I simply loved you. Tonight I love you on a spring evening. I love you with the window open. You are mine, and things are mine, and my love alters the things around me and the things around me alter my love.


Lord Byron to Teresa Guiccioli:


In that word, beautiful in all languages, but most so in yours–Amor mio–is comprised my existence here and hereafter. I feel I exist here, and I feel I shall exist hereafter,–to what purpose you will decide; my destiny rests with you, and you are a woman, eighteen years of age, and two out of a convent. I love you, and you love me,–at least, you say so, and act as if you did so, which last is a great consolation in all events. But I more than love you, and cannot cease to love you. Think of me, sometimes, when the Alps and ocean divide us, –but they never will, unless you wish it.


Zelda Fitzgerald to F. Scott Fitzgerald (round two):


Darling – I love these velvet nights. I’ve never been able to decide … whether I love you most in the eternal classic half-lights where it blends with day or in the full religious fan-fare of mid-night or perhaps in the lux of noon. Anyway, I love you most and you ’phoned me just because you phoned me tonight – I walked on those telephone wires for two hours after holding your love like a parasol to balance me.




Via Giphy



Feature Image Via Pinterest.


Your Valentine’s Day Throwback: The History of Cupid

It’s funny how Valentine’s Day evokes images of Cupid. His cherubic face is a contrast to the mischief he pulls when it comes to classic love stories. And although he may just look like a small baby flying around shooting hopeless souls with a bow and arrow, his story is a lot richer.


This celestial and god-like little being hails from way back in time, long before he was stamped on the front of corny Valentine’s Day cards. When I say long, I mean 700 B.C. long. If you’re still not quite sure who this aerial fella is, here’s a quick synopsis:


Cupid was originally part of the Greek culture, a god named Eros—long before the Romans adopted and renamed him ‘Cupido,’ meaning desire. In Latin he was sometimes called Amor as well. Hesiod was the first author to mention him in his work “Theogony”, but it wasn’t until later that we got hints of his lineage. Was he of Aphrodite and Ares? Nyx and Erebus? Venus and Mars? The connections vary at times. But his work was clear: He either shot mortals and gods with sharp golden arrows (for desire) or blunt lead arrows (for aversion).



Image Via ArtStation




Stories and myths are countless among the gods, but for Eros, there are a few notable ones. In one story, he shot Apollo with a golden arrow so he would fall in love with Daphne. Being his mischievous self, Eros shot Daphne with a lead arrow, leading to her repulsion of Apollo.


In another, Eros’ mother Aphrodite (aka Venus de Milo) was so jealous of Psyche (whose name means ‘soul’ and is depicted as a butterfly) that she ordered Eros to make her fall in love with a monstrous beast. Instead, Eros fell in love with Psyche on the condition that she can’t see his face. Eventually, of course, she peeked and he flew off in anger. In time he returned and granted her immortality anyway. It was believed that Cupid experienced the pain similar of a lead arrow  when he was stung by a bee as a child when scouting a hive for fresh honey.


As for the chubby, troublesome baby Cupid, it wasn’t until the Hellenistic period (323-31 BC) that he gained this image that, of course, stuck with us. He was even portrayed as being blindfolded, which Shakespeare explained was due to his being a little boy who always changed his mind. Cupid has often been depicted in literature, but now that you have the story, check out the some of the most gorgeous depictions of Eros in art:
Cupid painting

Allegory of Venus and Cupid by Agnolo Bronzino, 1545 / Image Via Steven Art Gallery AB



Seated Cupid by Etienne-Maurice Falconet, 1757 / Image Via Wikipedia



Cupidon by William-Adolphe Bouguereau, 1891 / Image Via WikiArt



Sleeping Cupid by Caravaggio, 1608 / Image Via Wikipedia 


Now that you can impress your friends with mythological facts and stories, don’t forget that this is the little face who’s responsible when you start catching those feelings.


Feature Image Via CNN