Vincent van Gogh was, like, super famous for writing letters to friends and his brother Theo. (The Vincent van Gogh Letter Project has more than 900 letters either sent or received by van Gogh.)
He once wrote about a fable where a moth is drawn to a candle, only to burn its wings. So he complains like a little baby and flees. The candle then dwindles down to nothing, only to say,
‘You unjustly reproached me, while I loved you in silence. Now I die, adieu, fly to your other loves.’
Van Gogh, of course, compares the candle to a woman, and the moth to a man. He asks his friend, Anthon Rappard:
Viewed thus, men don’t play a very noble role — well, but that is in fact the case.
NO DUH. I mean, hello, you had me at fleeing like a baby when it burns its wings against a very hot
predator woman candle. It’s a tough world, lads. But Sweet Jesus if I’ll be that desperate to loving in silence; I’ll just angry text for a day and then ghost.