Eleanor

“But I think of life rather like a long road we walk in one direction. By and large a lonesome walk out in the wildness of hills and wind. Mountains. Snow. And sometimes there is someone to come along and walk with you for a stretch, and sometimes (this is what I’m getting to) sometimes you see in the distance some lights and it heartens you, the lone house or maybe a village and you come into the warmth of that stopover and go inside.”
― Virginia Evans, The Correspondent

“When I started writing to you I don't know what I thought it was for. Maybe what I wanted was for you to know me...the fact is that I got every moment of you there was.”
― Virginia Evans

“Imagine, the letters one has sent out into the world, the letters received back in turn, are like the pieces of a magnificent puzzle, or, a better metaphor, if dated, the links of a long chain, and even if those links are never put back together, which they will certainly never be, even if they remain for the rest of time dispersed across the earth like the fragile blown seeds of a dying dandelion, isn’t there something wonderful in that, to think that a story of one’s life is preserved in some way, that this very letter may one day mean something, even if it is a very small thing, to someone?”
― Virginia Evans, The Correspondent

“When you think about it, everyone's life's a prison - of days, sort of. The trick is to get comfortable in it, I reckon. Find your freedom inside whatever your prison is.”
― M.L. Stedman, A Far-Flung Life