Mark Twain (1835–1910) to his wife, Livy

You are dearer to me today, my child, than you were upon the last anniversary of this birthday; you were dearer then than you were a year before–you have grown more and more dear from the first of those anniversaries, and I do not doubt that this precious progression will continue on to the end. Let us look forward to the coming anniversaries, with their age and their gray hairs without fear and without depression, trusting and believing that the love we bear each other will be sufficient to make them blessed