Bring back the romantic in you.

Send love letters the old-school way.

1 Write it on the paper below, in your own words.
2 Fold it and tie it with a thread.
3 Send them the link. They pull the thread to open it.

To,

Yours,

Why we built this

Devotion isn’t a part-time job.

I’ve been fascinated by the concept of love and building a shared life with someone. My parents met at 18, and decades later, they’re still each other’s favourite person. I’m a big believer that you should always be courting your partner, and I created this when I realised that we are extremely interconnected, but lack the connection with others.

Devotion has become an almost embarrassing word to say out loud. Most of us give the worst energy to the people who will come to our funeral. I created this to be something that someone can send their loved ones,

A love letter is intentional. It takes time, so it proves time. It’s in your hand, so it proves it’s you. It can be kept, so it says forever. I built this to bring back the romantic in all of us.

Kailash

Read what they wrote when they were in love.

Written in pencil over two days and found among Beethoven's papers after his death in 1827, the letter names no recipient; Lady Wallace's edition, following Nohl, prints it as to Giulietta Guicciardi in 1800, but it is now dated to Teplitz, July 1812.

c. 1132To Peter Abelard

To her master, nay father, to her husband, nay brother; his handmaid, nay daughter, his spouse, nay sister: to ABELARD, HELOISE.

For it is thou alone that canst make me sad, canst make me joyful or canst comfort me. … Nothing have I ever (God wot) required of thee save thyself, desiring thee purely, not what was thine. … I call God to witness, if Augustus, ruling over the whole world, were to deem me worthy of the honour of marriage, and to confirm the whole world to me, to be ruled by me for ever, dearer to me and of greater dignity would it seem to be called thy strumpet than his empress.

Heloise, c. 1132

1861To Sarah Ballou

My Very Dear Wife:

Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless, how foolish I have oftentimes been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears, every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. … But, O Sarah, if the dead can come back to this earth, and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you, in the garish day, and the darkest night, amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours, always, always; and, if the soft breeze fans your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air cools your throbbing temples, it shall be my spirit passing by.

Sullivan Ballou, 1861

1774To John Adams

My much loved friend,

I dare not express to you, at three hundred miles' distance, how ardently I long for your return. I have some very miserly wishes, and cannot consent to your spending one hour in town, till, at least, I have had you twelve. The idea plays about my heart, unnerves my hand, whilst I write; awakens all the tender sentiments that years have increased and matured, and which, when with me, every day was dispensing to you. The whole collected stock of ten weeks' absence knows not how to brook any longer restraint, but will break forth and flow through my pen.

Abigail Adams, 1774

1819To Fanny Brawne

My dearest Lady,

Ask yourself my love whether you are not very cruel to have so entrammelled me, so destroyed my freedom. Will you confess this in the Letter you must write immediately and do all you can to console me in it, make it rich as a draught of poppies to intoxicate me, write the softest words and kiss them that I may at least touch my lips where yours have been. For myself I know not how to express my devotion to so fair a form: I want a brighter word than bright, a fairer word than fair. I almost wish we were butterflies and liv’d but three summer days, three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.

John Keats, 1819

1812To The 'Immortal Beloved'

My angel! My all! My second self!

Even before I rise, my thoughts throng to you, my immortal beloved! sometimes full of joy, and yet again sad, waiting to see whether Fate will hear us. I must live either wholly with you, or not at all. … Never can another possess my heart, never, never! … Your love made me the most happy and yet the most unhappy of men. … Yesterday, to-day, what longings for you, what tears for you! for you! for you! my life! my all! Farewell! Oh! love me forever, and never doubt the faithful heart of your lover, L. Ever thine. Ever mine. Ever each other's.

Ludwig van Beethoven, 1812

Flick it away for the next. 150 letters, all public domain.

Three steps, and a thread.

Find inspiration

Flip through the greatest love letters ever written, or begin with a line that has lasted centuries.

Write it here

Say what you feel. If the words won’t come, it helps you find them. You keep the pen.

Send it

One tap. It goes as a link to wherever you talk. They pull the thread to open it, and can write back.