art by Cher Jiang Yale Station: Letters of Love |
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April 22, 1947
NEW HAVEN, CONN. Apr. 22: A very strange incident
was witnessed in this quaint old New England town
tonight. A letter, apparently a non-resident, for
it seemed unfamiliar with the city, asking for one
G. Bostick, a local of ill-repute. It refused to give
its name, but from the foreign accent, it was deduced
by our linguist that it either came from the middle
province of hung chow or the Bronx -- a little place
just outside New York Clty.
Darling,
so you see, letters can carry themselves.
This item was taken from the Daily Refuse, New York's
Fiction Newspaper.
And the letter carried all sorts of good
things. One of them 1ife -- pure, virile, bubbling life.
I liked "A Consecration" -- Masefield, but as you said,
didn't agree too closely with "If Thou Must Love Me".
Of course, "her smile -- her look -- her way
Of speaking gently, -- trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day" --
Are not the greatest things I love about her -- but I
love them also -- and how can we know people, no matter
how deeply we are like them, if we can not look in at
the windows of their smiles, eyes, and thought? I'm sure,
to be crude, that one does not buy a Ford simply because
it is a Ford -- that particular car hag characteristics
which make Ford a good name -- not lhe other way around.
But I'm a fool to sit here trying to define something
which doesn't need to be defined for us. The simple and
wonderful fact is that I love youl
You have great taste, my small one. I have to keep on
my toes to stay up with you.
2 You're a very precious little being, if I do say so myself. Must get back. Tell everyone hello.
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