Awww...

"I've been looking at you as you lie here beside me on this fifteenth anniversary and wondering why everyone has only just discovered you are the First Lady. You've been the First--in fact the only--to me for fifteen years.
That sounds so strange--"fifteen years." It still seems like minutes, they've gone by so swiftly. If I have any regret it is only for the days we've been apart and I've had to awaken without watching you. Someday you'll have to explain to me how you can be five years old when you sleep and for fifteen years yet. But then maybe it has something to do with my only being fifteen--because I wasn't living before I began watching you."
--Ronald Reagan to Nancy, March 4, 1967
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Dear Mrs. Reagan,

And you are Mrs. Reagan because Mr. Reagan loves you with all his heart. Every time Mr. Reagan sees the evening star or blows out the birthday candles or gets the big end of the wishbone he thinks the same wish—a prayer really—that so much happiness will go on and somehow be deserved by him.

It is true sometimes that Mr. Reagan loses his temper and slams a door but that’s because he can’t cry or stamp his foot—(he isn’t really the type.) But mad or glad Mr. Reagan is head over heels in love with Mrs. Reagan and can’t even imagine a world without her—

He loves her
Mr. Reagan

P.S. I'm just one pillow over.

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Dear Wife,

A few days ago you told me I was angry with you. I tried to explain I was frustrated with myself. But later on I realized that my frustration might have been a touch of self-pity because I’d been going around feeling that you are frequently angry with me.

No more. We are so much “one” that you are as vital to me as my own heart—with one exception; you could never be replaced with a transplant.

Whatever I treasure and enjoy—this home, our ranch, the sight of the sea—all would be without meaning if I didn’t have you. I live in a permanent Christmas because God gave me you. As I write this, you are hurrying by—back and forth doing those things only you can do and I get a feeling of warm happiness just watching you. That’s why I can’t pass you or let you pass me without reaching to touch you. (Except now or you would see what I’m doing.)

I’ll write no more because I’m going to catch up with you wherever you are and hold you for a moment.

Merry Christmas Darling—I love you with all my heart.

Your Husband
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"Your desire that I would write at every Opportunity is punctually observed by me, And I comply with your request, altho I have nothing more to say than How do ye? and when will you return? These questions perhaps may appear trifling to others, yet to me they are matters of the highest importance."
--Abigail Smith to John Adams, May 4, 1764