Jesteśmy społecznością, która kocha książki

(...)turning her face to the wall, began trying to force herself to face the fact that many people must live and die alone, even in Winesburg.

Love is like a wind stirring the grass beneath trees on a black night. [...] You must not try to make love definite. It is the divine accident of life. If you try to be definite and sure about it and to live beneath the trees, where soft night winds blow, the long hot day of disappointment comes swiftly and the gritty dust from passing wagons gathers upon lips inflamed and made tender by kisses.

I am a lover and have not found my thing to love.

Gdzieś wysoko w ciemnościach dwa niezwykle czułe ludzkie atomy zamarły w mocnym uścisku. Obydwoje myśleli o tym samym. "Mam kogoś na tym samotnym świecie".

In that high place in the darkness the two oddly sensitive human atoms held each other tightly and waited. In the mind of each was the same thought. “I have come to this lonely place and here is this other,” was the substance of the thing felt.

I don't know what I shall do. I just want to go away and look at people and think.