The art of letters will come to an end before A.D. 2000. I shall survive as a curiosity.
If you want to act, you have to devote yourself to it. Send out letters and photos every day, work all the hours under the sun, whatever it takes. If you're not determined, you won't get anywhere.
We hope that the elected officials will respond positively to a ground swell of letters, phone calls, e-mails and visits from parents. The law clearly states that the responsibility for giving a sound basic education to our children lies with New York State.
I wrote that letter, and the one to Nixon. And I wrote more letters, and I thought it might be a magazine article. At that time I sent it to Esquire and Playboy, but anyway, I kept writing, and all of sudden I had enough and thought, well maybe it is a book.
I have like 250 letters that I have to whittle it down to 150. Only then do you have the whole overview of a book. When it was finally edited, at least my take was, everybody's lying. You know?
Average Americans are going to win this, not me. And not just your organization, not just the providers of health care, but the American people are going to cause this to happen. But they have to keep sending those cards and letters.
The position of modern science, as far as an ignorant man of letters can understand it, seems not a step in advance of that held by Huxley and Romanes in the last century.
I am constantly getting letters from inconsistancies in the back stories of these characters.
I get about 25 letters a month, and I answer every one of them.
My spelling is Wobbly. It's good spelling but it Wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places.
I used to get letters from girl reporters saying that their lives were nowhere near as exciting as Brenda's. I told them that if I made Brenda's life like theirs, nobody would read it.
He liked to go from A to B without inventing letters between.
I get a lot of letters. Not only from children but from adults, too. Almost every week, every month, clippings come in from some part of the world where ducks are crossing the street.
If a man wishes to truly not be written about, he would do well not to write letters to 18-year-old girls, inviting them into his life.
Not only did I avoid speaking of Salinger; I resisted thinking about him. I did not reread his letters to me. The experience had been too painful.