In Brentwood we had a big safe-deposit box to put manuscripts in if we left town during fire season. It was such a big box that we never bothered to clean it out.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Now I have to have the biggest P.O. box in the entire post office to get all the manuscripts coming in.
When I retire I'm going to spend my evenings by the fireplace going through those boxes. There are things in there that ought to be burned.
I archive a lot of my clothes and have them wrapped up and in boxes. I call them 'little tombs' and keep them in a storage space... I would never get rid of the dress I wore on the night I won my Oscar. When I die, someone can have it, but not a minute before!
Ever since I was a child, I've kept boxes and drawers and pages of things that I liked. I suppose that it constitutes a journal of sorts, but it's not in a ledger or a notebook.
When I was taken to the concentration camp of Auschwitz, a manuscript of mine ready for publication was confiscated. Certainly, my deep desire to write this manuscript anew helped me to survive the rigors of the camps I was in.
I keep two sentimental mementos on my desk to remind me of two favorite men. There is an inkwell that my Uncle Seymour made, a brass grotesque he mounted on a marble base. And my grandfather's shaving cup is there, used to store pencils and pens.
I keep a picture of my beloved children close by. Also, water and plenty of pads and pens.
My first playpen was a cardboard box.
Feverishly we cleared away the remaining last scraps of rubbish on the floor of the passage before the doorway, until we had only the clean sealed doorway before us.
Thanks to my mother, not a single cardboard box has found its way back into society. We receive gifts in boxes from stores that went out of business twenty years ago.