Quotes About Letter

Every letter was a love letter. Of course, as love letters went, this one could have been better. It was not very promising, for instance, that Madeleine claimed not to want to see him for the next half-century.

The guardian flipped it over. "It's one of ours, yes . . . hmm. Says it's addressed to Eudaimonia—

By the light of a candle, he composed a letter, saying everything as briefly as possible:

x, n. Doesn't it strike you as strange that we have a letter in the alphabet that nobody uses? It represents one-twenty-sixth of the possibility of our language, and we let it languish. If you and I really, truly wanted to change the world, we'd invent more words that started with x.

truth is a letter from courage!

would have died there. Right there. And she didn't say anything. She didn't even cry at first. She just handed the letter to Pop, and he read it, and then he put his head down on the table and began to cry.

In a letter to the editor of the (now, sadly, defunct) magazine The Sciences (vol. 35

The mind flies out to objects of its love And finds impenetrable forms and shapes That you can formulate when you pin down Each butterfly of thought upon your board. from "Letter to an Imaginary Brazil

I NOTICE THAT IT TAKES PRACTICE, NO MATTER HOW CLEAR YOUR THOUGHTS ARE. PLUS WHICH THIS IS A LETTER

Then it is not uncommon for a man to become lost in a single letter, or hear a voice rise up from the silent page.

Burn my last letter, I am sooo lucky! I am not on the menu, I am a guest (somebody you have to stay). That zippy bag was not a trap, it was for sleeping, hmmm cosy! They put me in it for first aid!

in more than twenty years of prison, I'd never been called into the warden's office. I walked in and he smiled at me, handing me a letter. It was from a fifteen-year-old Mexican American kid named Danny who I'd tried to connect with in a one-on-one.

Our churches condemn the Pelagians and others who teach that without the Holy Spirit, by natural power alone, we are able to love God above all things and do God's commandments according to the letter.

I flattered myself by thinking that, if faced with such a circumstance, I would respond within the letter of the law; but passion is a strange thing, a thing that warps and twists everything with which it comes in contact.

Yes," says Bryan. "If Edgeburton wants some extra dibs he's only got to write a letter to his grandfather and he gets a postal order for five bob by return . . . he doesn't ask for it, even." "I hope not." "No," says Bryan. "He doesn't need to ask. Edgeburton just writes and says 'How are you?' and that sort of thing and the money arrives." "Edgeburton must write a very good letter.

Well, I'm not going to go into what the letter says, because the police are looking at that. But as you say it's in Bahasa. But of course that's not to suggest that the letter came from outside of Australia. It came from in Australia. It came from Victoria.

Memory revises me. Even now a letter comes from a place I don't know, from someone with my name and postmarked years ago, while I await injunctions from the light or the dark; I wait for shapeliness limned, or dissolution. Is paradise due or narrowly missed until another thousand years? I wait in a blue hour and faraway noise of hammering, and on a page a poem begun, something about to be dispersed, something about to come into being.

It's just time: the book I read, the letter I write, the window I look out of. Just a sleeve I keep trying to mend, the spool diminishing. Just my one hand writing words, my other hand weighing the silences between them. — Li-Young Lee, from "Cloudy Mirror: A Forward," The Winged Seed: A Remembrance (Simon & Schuster, 1995)

I am afraid you will forgive the length neither of my letter nor of my silence, and will be as much bored by the silver of the one as by the golden of the other.

Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company.

Composing a letter is a way to combine solitude with good company.

I am not much engaged by the problems of what you might call our day but I am burdened by the particular, the mad person who writes me a letter. It is no longer necessary for them even to write me. I know when someone is thinking of me. I learn to deal with this.

Dear Joan, the letter begins, although the writer did not know me at all.

The letter is still in my makeup box but I am careful not to read it unless I am drunk