The art of letters will come to an end before A.D. 2000. I shall survive as a curiosity.
I am, I must confess, an obsessive and superstitious letter-writer. When I am troubled I will write any long letter rather than make a telephone call. This is perhaps because I invest letters with mag...
Together they will spend a happy hour seated side by side..., while Ivy's tender hand guides Duffy's as he traces out laboriously, in pencil, over and over until he has them off pat, the magic letters...
You can live to be old or young, but you'll always have moments when you lose your head.
May I kiss you then? On this miserable paper? I might as well open the window and kiss the night air.
I read somewhere that dedications are like coded love letters, but I always seem to lay us out bare.Sorry for the poems.
Calamity with us, is made an excuse for doing wrong. With them, it is erected into a reason for their doing right. This is really the justice of rich to poor, and I protest against it because it is so...
My education was neglected, yet I was passionately fond of reading.
I thought I had everything until I found you.
Let your heart dance with pen and paperNow fill the paper with dancing letters.
Nothing and no one in the world could kill the love I have for you. I have surrendered my whole individuality, the very essence of my being to you. I have given you my body time after time to treat as...
Into each dance must be packed the panic and ecstasy of her last moment of life, for underneath was death.
The awful part of the writing game is that you can never be sure the stuff is any good.
It's funny; in this era of e-mail and voice mail and all those things that even I did not grow up with, a plain old paper letter takes on amazing intimacy.
It gave me a queer feeling. Yesterday or the day before, while I had been going about my business, quietly and in private, some unknown person some had gone to the trouble of marking my name on thi...
To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart.
I'm always running into the Sunday God of churchgoing Christians and cannot help noticing that he doesn't help out much on weekdays.
it is a marvel that those red-roseleaf lips of yours should be made no less for the madness of music and song than for the madness of kissing.
Venerable are letters, infinitely brave, forlorn, and lost.
It's my letter, she began. I cannot make it right.Come in, come in, the Prince said gently. Maybe we can help you. She sat down in the same chair as before. All right, I'll close my eyes and listen; r...