Sent from Paris, evening, 23 September 1794
I have been playing and laughing with the little girl so long, that I cannot take up my pen to address you without emotion. Pressing her to my bosom, she looked so like you (entre nous, your best looks, for I do not admire your commercial face), every nerve seemed to vibrate to the touch, and I began to think that there was something in the assertion of man and wife being one — for you seemed to pervade my whole frame, quickening the beat of my heart, and lending me the sympathetic tears you excited.
Have I anything more to say to you? No; not for the present — the rest is all flown away; and indulging tenderness for you, I cannot now complain of some people here, who have ruffled my temper for two or three days past.
–Mary Wollstonecraft, mother of Mary Shelley, author of A Vindication of the Rights of Women
Letter published in Love Letters of Great Women, many copies of which await you in our fireplace room