They really wanted to remain always in their own house and their own garden. There are such people. - Iris Murdoch

I am, I must confess, an obsessive and superstitious letter-writer. When I am troubled I will write any long letter rather than make a telephone call. This is perhaps because I invest letters with magical power. To desiderate something in a letter is, I often irrationally feel, tantamount to bringing it about. A letter is a barrier, a reprieve, a charm against the world, an almost infallible method of acting at a distance. (And, it must be admitted, of passing the buck.) It is a way of bidding time to stop.

In philosophy if you aren't moving at a snail's pace you aren't moving at all.

Perhaps there was an intimacy which did not need words.