You see I don't care much about acquaintances. When I can come & go, & not be misunderstood, & can be at liberty & unweighted, uncriticized, unsuspected, as part of the very household, as at your house & Mrs.Fairbanks's my "friendship" (as we term it) really comes nearer being worship than anything else I can liken it to but to be a ceremonious visitor; a person of set hours & seasons; a foreigner in the household, without naturalization papers; an alien from whose ears the language of the fireside is withheld; an effigy to poke politenesses at & offend with affabilities that are hollow, invitations that are not meant, & complementary lies that are as thin & perishable as the air they are made of--this is Acquaintanceship, & very little of it goes a great way with me.
- Letter to Olivia Langdon, 3/6/1869
Saturday, March 21, 2009
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