It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single woman in possession of a tiny fortune must be in want of a few pets and a personal library.

A few days ago I told a good friend, "I'm not a hopeless romantic or anything, but I really love the art of letter writing." And those of you who have followed Pillow Book for a while have surely heard me mention something similar. I love when I can visualize the handwriting - the nuance in penmanship, the common phrasing, the clever or sarcastic tones - of those whose voices I can also immediately distinguish on the dreaded, dreaded phone. I love to open a card or letter and feel as though the particular stationary, drawn picture, or stamp was chosen or created just for me. I love those rare occasions when it seems I've said exactly what I wanted to say in my own penned compositions. Letters thus "speak to" and cultivate those relationships that matter...and also force us to give structure to thoughts floating around in our often multi-tasked and scattered minds.

And, while this expression of concern for others and articulation of self does not necessarily have to be evidenced in romantic gesture - in fact, I have a collection of letters from Caroline that mean more to me than most everything else I own - the idea of getting to know someone, and maybe even falling in love, through letters is a really beautiful, albeit antiquated and likely faulty in its own right, act. Who doesn't enjoy digging around in keepsake boxes and uncovering old love letters? Who wouldn't treasure finding those shared between their parents or grandparents? Who wouldn't secretly love to get one, even as a 31 year old who claims to be neither hopeless romantic nor "hugger for no particular reason"?

Answer: No one.

Suggestion: Write a love letter today...even if you never send it. Write one to your significant other, write one to your best friend, hell, write one to yourself.

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Cleverly-crafted and beautifully-worded letters are one of the primary reasons I love Jane Austen so much. Despite loathing both impractically tight dresses and impossibly rigid gender expectations, I read Austen and think, "I want to go to a ball. I want to wait anxiously for a letter from the boy I met at said ball. I want to be rescued by a man in tails, who, on his stately horse, rescues me from the lonely field I have chosen to walk across on a bitterly cold, overcast day...and who then writes me a letter of inconspicuous adoration. Like I said, not one bit hopeless romantic...

So, in effect, Austen's work is my literary Gilmore Girls. She pays attention to banter. She is masterful with character development. She has witty heroines who can verbally compete with any suitor and who inevitably fall only for the one who challenges them most. She makes me want to be one of the characters. And, I simply love her way with words; I respect her sarcasm, her biting, but subtle, social critiques, the sophistication and depth of thought conveyed in formal expression, the fact that each time I read I find something new at which to giggle or scoff or nearly cry.
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Some of my favorites from Pride & Prejudice...

"'Well, he certainly is very agreeable, and I give you leave to like him. You have liked many a stupider person.'"

"Bingley was quite uncomfortable; his sisters declared that they were miserable. They solaced their wretchedness, however, by duets after supper"

"Elizabeth took up some needlework, and was sufficiently amused in attending to what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual recommendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue, and was exactly in unison with her opinion of each."

"'Nothing is more deceitful,' said Darcy, 'than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast.'"

"She could only imagine however, at last, that she drew his notice because there was a something about her more wrong and reprehensible, according to his ideas of right, than in any other person present. The supposition did not pain her. She liked him too little to care for his approbation."

"After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth, said to her, 'Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?' She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence. 'Oh!' she said, 'I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say yes that you might have the pleasure of despising my tastes, but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell you that I do not want to dance a reel at all - and now despise me if you dare.'" One of my favorite covers (1880s edition)