[letterhead, line 1, left justified: E. B. WHITE] [letterhead, line 2, heavy line across full page width between margins] [letterhead, line 3, right justified: NORTH BROOKLIN, MAINE 04661]

William F. Bolger Postmaster General Washington, DC 20260

Dear Mr. Bolger:

A writer who has had books published receives many letters. A few are memorable and give him courage to go on. Over the past fifty years I have received thousands of letters from readers, but I will simply give you a recent example--a letter from a young farmwife in the midwest. I have never met her. I have heard from her a few times, and she knows I am old and have lost my wife. She closes her letter with these words:

“Your books have seen me through many things and even when they will no longer rest on the shelf, when the shelf is torn down and this old house no longer stands, they will be with me--wherever I am. What Emily said is true, ‘There is no frigate like a book.’ I hope that life at 80 holds many things dear for you--that the sun pushes you out of bed in the morning, that sleep comes easily at night and that dreams are sweet. That winter brings more than cold and that your heart is warm. I wish everything that is good for you in 1980. Love.”

Such an expression, simple and genuine, sustains a writer, lifts his flagging spirits. As you say, letters are important. I get too many of them. Some are poorly written, some are self-serving, some are needlessly long and chatty. But among them, every once in a while, one emerges that speaks to me in words that move and rekindle me. Such a one makes up for all the rest. Sometimes I dread opening my mailbag, but I always do open it, and I know I would miss it if it failed to arrive.

Sincerely, [signature: EBWhite]

3 January 1980