Letter
Feb. 11th 1951
"I'm
convinced that no one can amount to a damn in the arts if he becomes
sweetly reasonable, seeing all sides of a picture, forgiving all sins."
"Maybe the death of the institution of friendship is the death of innovation in the arts."
"This letter is sententious crap, shot full of self-pity. But it's the kind of letter writers seem to write; and since I quit G-E, if I'm not a writer then I'm nothing."
- Kurt Vonnegut
"Maybe the death of the institution of friendship is the death of innovation in the arts."
"This letter is sententious crap, shot full of self-pity. But it's the kind of letter writers seem to write; and since I quit G-E, if I'm not a writer then I'm nothing."
- Kurt Vonnegut
Confido
The summer had died peacefully in it's sleep....
At one with this sad, sweet allegory ...was Ellen Bowers
and Henry
"What is it every person really wants, more than food almost?"
"Happiness certainly! But what's the key to happiness?"
"Religion? Security, Henry? Health, dear?"
"What is the longing you see in the eyes of strangers on the street, in the eyes wherever you look?"
"Somebody to talk to! Somebody who really understands! That's what."
"Henry -haven't we been doing more than merely existing?"
"Not according to Confido..."
...which sat by the jam, amid the uncleared breakfast dishes.
