14 March 1921
14 March 1921
14 March 1921
Villa Isola Bella, Menton, France
But I remember, I expect you do, too, walks, drives, walking over wet lawns and down dark garden paths, finding oneself on the wharf or the station at a quarter to two in the morning, exploring empty kitchens long after midnight, watching the light change while you lie on the divan smoking and listening - one could go on for ever. And thats all too trivial - I mean something more — which makes every breath one takes, as it were — an emotion.
It is very mysterious how, in spite of everything, we find ourselves at the last praising Life.
But this disjointed letter must end. Big green stars glitter in the deep sky; the frogs are shrilling and the sea beats ‘A-Ah’. It is like summer.
Goodnight. I ought to give you news of Murry, tho’. Let me see . . . As far as I know he is quite unchanged. He is working, but not too hard. And in the intervals he smokes his pipe, sews, and irons his trousers.
Salute your New Baby for me and her fortunate mother. I hope they are both well.
Je vous serre le main
Ever
Katherine.
[To Sydney Waterlow in Collected Letters, 16 March 1921.]