“I see Alice Toklas now and then, but I’m afraid that each time I do I am stiffer and more afraid. She is charming, and will probably see me less and less as a result of my inability to converse. This is not a result of my shyness alone, but of a definite absence of intellect, or should I say of ideas that can be expressed, ideas that I am in any way certain about. I have no opinions really. This is not just neurotic. It is very true. And Alice Toklas gives one plenty of opportunity to express an idea or opinion. She is sitting there waiting to hear one. She won’t serve me those little bread sandwiches in different colors any more because she says I like them more than the cake, and so eat them instead of the cake. I do like them better. And now I must go there and eat only sweets, which makes me even more nervous. Maybe she’ll never speak to me again. Eudora Welty came over to dinner with Mary Lou Aswell and told me she was a great admirer of yours. She asked for Camp Cataract and took it home with her. After nearly a month she returned it with a note explaining that she failed on it, but would like to try something else of mine some day. I had met her on the street in the middle of the month, and she said then that she was having trouble with it, and so she never did finish it. I was disturbed by that as I have, since seeing you last, turned into an admirer of hers, and it would be nice for me to be admired by an established and talented American writer, instead of by my friends and no one else.”                                            

  – Jane Bowles to Paul Bowles, January 1950, Paris