29 Jan

29 January 1920

L'Hermitage, Menton - France

I have received an abominably selfish letter from Jack - telling me about Sussex. It has hurt me so much. I wrote back, but won't post it. I feel it must be a mistake. ‘Drunken with the magnificence' ‘pure sheer spring'. [KM Notebooks]

Ill look for [the] review of Night & Day. I did it badly - very badly. The trouble with the book is its over-ripe. Its hung in the warm library too long; its gone soft. But thats the trouble with that whole set of people & with all their ideas, I think. One gets rather savage living in a little isolated villa on a wild hillside & thinking about these things. All this self examination - this fastidious probing - this hovering on the brink - its all wrong. I don't believe a writer can ever do anything worth doing until he has - in the profoundest sense of the word - ACCEPTED Life. Then he can face the problem & begin to question, but not before. But these people wont accept Life, they'll only accept a point of view or something like that. I wish one could let them go, but they go on writing novels and Life goes on being expensive - so poor little KM goes on lifting up her voice & weeping, but she doesn't want to!
Ive left Italy (Italy is a thoroughly bad place at present) and as you see Im in France. Its lovely weather - warm - mild - the air smells of faint far off tangerines with just a touch of nutmeg. On my table there are cornflowers & jonquils with rosemary sprigs. Here they are for you. The flowers are wonderful. How lovely the earth is. Do you know I had fifteen cinerarias in Italy & they grew against the sea? I hope one will be able to call these things up on one's deathbed. [To Sylvia Lynd in Collected Letters, 31 January 1920]