...all his prayers of the past had been simple concrete requests: God, give me a bicycle, a knife with seven blades, a box of oil-paints. Only how, h… - Truman Capote

I loved her enough to forget myself, my self-pitying despairs, and be content that something she thought happy was going to happen.

I suppose you think I'm very brazen. Or très fou. Or something.'
Not at all.'
She seemed disappointed. 'Yes, you do. Everybody does. I don't mind. It's useful.

It snowed all week. Wheels and footsteps moved soundlessly on the street, as if the business of living continued secretly behind a pale but impenetrable curtain. In the falling quiet there was no sky or earth, only snow lifting in the wind, frosting the window glass, chilling the rooms, deadening and hushing the city. At all hours it was necessary to keep a lamp lighted, and Mrs. Miller lost track of the days: Friday was no different from Saturday and on Sunday she went to the grocery: closed, of course.