Postbox Quotes & Sayings

The more you hope the more you hurt. You drop a letter in a Holy Communion envelope in the postbox and already you are waiting for a reply. Human beings were built for response. But human nature can't tolerate too much waiting. Between the emotion and the response falls the shadow, T.S. Eliot said, and that was the principle that inspired texting, that came up with the shortest possible time, basically as fast as Sheila Geary's two thumbs could hammer ILY on a tiny keyboard and get Johnny Johnston's ILY2 back, so that between emotion and response now there wasn't all that much shadow. All writers are waiting for replies. That's what I've learned. Maybe all human beings are. After the Yeats classes my father returned — Niall Williams

EVERY FEW WEEKS AND SOMETIMES MORE OFTEN THAN THAT, the Benzes would receive in the postbox affixed to the wall outside their front door a notice printed on a half-size sheet of white paper, bordered in a bold black line. They were death announcements. Ein Bestattungsanzeige. The postman delivered them along with the mail whenever a Dietlikon resident died. It was a small-town courtesy, not a typical Swiss practice. — Jill Alexander Essbaum

Emma and I slammed together in a dizzy, twirling embrace. I could hardly speak. 'What are you-how did you-"
I was tingling all over, certain I was still dreaming.
'I got your electrical letter!' she said.
'My ... email?'
"Yes, whatever you call it! When I didn't hear from you I got worried, and then I remembered the machinated postbox you said you made for me. Horce was able to guess your password, and-'
"We came as soon as we heard,' said Miss peregrine, shaking her head at my parents. — Ransom Riggs

12 I wrote to Mrs. Traynor. I didn't tell her about Lily, just that I hoped she was well, that I was back from my travels and would be in her area in a few weeks with a friend, and would like to say hello if possible. I sent it first class, and felt oddly excited as it plopped into the postbox. Dad had told me over the phone that she had left Granta House within weeks of Will's death. He said the estate workers had been shocked, but I thought back to the time I had spotted Mr. Traynor out with Della, the woman he was now about to — Jojo Moyes

The kinds of metaphorical language that we use to describe the Hmong say far more about us, and our attachment to our own frame of reference, than they do about the Hmong. So much for the Perambulating Postbox Theory. — Anne Fadiman