Letters to Nelson Algren 1947-64
...this poverty seemed refreshing, after the heavy odour of the dollars in the big hotels and the elegant restaurants, which I found hard to take.
...and finally the intoxication of understanding.
With you pleasure was love, and now pain is love too. We must know every kind of love.
Just now I do not see exactly why anybody should ever write anything. The world just as it is is so big; it exists and needs no words.
The walls are pink--that is nice--as pink as a toothpaste.
After dinner I sat a long time in the garden and looked at the sky which was losing its blue and pink colors, and looked at the nice bit of glittering moon above the roof, and I felt happy to be a human beaing with two eyes and a heart.
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