I don’t know where we stand. And that is an eternal life for us. A feeling like emptying your lungs to sink to the bottom of a lake and squishing the mud underfoot then coming back to shore with clean feet.
So I guess I’m saying that we stand at the bottom of a lake, holding hands and working our toes. And we will someday swim to the shore with clean feet.” —Letters to Emma Bowlcut, Letter 39.