How little words are necessary between us. We seem to know each other though we say nothing almost for days. The energy which is required for carrying on conversations seems to have left me lately and I find myself constantly slipping into silence. In a way it seems to me a pity that we do not say more to each other. You see how I begin to babble in these letters. And yet why should I be ashamed of words?, Why should I not call you what in my heart I continually call you?.
- James Joyce, Letter to Nora Barnacle, 26 Sept, 1904
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