14 October

14 October 1920

Villa Isola Bella Menton, France

[Telegram to J. M. Murry in Collected Letters]

I DESPISE and shrink from that vulgar Bennet. C-B, too, with his Wordsworth complex! This queer half-hinting, half-suggesting . . . and yet what he does say doesn't help one in the very slightest to understand Wordsworth better. I am amazed at the sudden ‘mushroom growth' of cheap psycho analysis everywhere. Five novels one after the other are based on it: its in everything. And I want to prove it wont do - its turning Life into a case. And yet, of course, I do believe one ought to be able to - not ought - ones novel if its a good one will be capable of being proved scientifically to be correct. Here - the thing thats happening now is the impulse to write is a different impulse. With an artist - one has to allow - oh tremendously for the subconscious element in his work. He writes he knows not what - hes possessed.
[. . .]
Every morning I have a seawater bath in a saucer & today after it, still wet, I stood in the full sun to dry - both windows wide open. One cant help walking about naked in the mornings - one almost wades in the air. As for my old feet - Ive never felt them since the first days I was here - never dream of wearing that awful strapping or anything. Im writ¬ing facing Italy - great mountains, grey gold with tufts of dark green against a sheer blue sky. Yes, I confess its very hard work to wait for you. Can we hope for more than - how many? springs & summers. I don't want to miss one.

Such a strange feeling. I seem to be you - not two persons but one person. You must feel my love. Do you? Precious Bogey . . . dearest dear. I am your true love [Letter to J. M. Murry in Collected Letters 13 October 1920]