Dear, I can't write, it's all a fantasy: a kind of circling obsession.
How wonderful it is to be able to write someone a letter! To feel like conveying your thoughts to a person, to sit at your desk and pick up a pen, to put your thoughts into words like this is truly...
You are here with a competent but painful spell! As I am here, even more tangible; Wherever I am, you are there, as much as I am, even more specific.
You are the knife I turn inside myself; that is love. That, my dear, is love.
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.
The Red Lion was a four-ale bar with a handful of lowbrowed sons of toil who looked as though they...
What could you do? Major Major asked himself again. What could you do with a man who looked you...
If I turned towards books, it was because they were the only sanctuary I knew, one I needed in order...
We all had to pay, but not for the crimes we were accused of. There were other scores to settle.
Hope for some means its loss for others; when the hopeless regain some hope, those in power--the...
Why are they going to disappear him? I don't know. It doesn't make sense. It isn't even good...
fiction is like a spider's web, attached ever so slightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all...
Havermeyer was a lead bombardier who never missed. Yossarian was a lead bombardier who had been...
Read me back the last line. 'Read me back the last line,' read back the corporal who could take...