17 Jan
17 Jan
17 January 1920
Casetta Deerholm, Ospedaletti - Italy
Postal strike no letters no wires. Tearing up and sorting the old letters.
The feeling that comes - the anguish - the words that fly out into one's breast my darling my wife. Oh what anguish! Oh will it ever be the same! Lay awake at night listening to the voices. Two men seemed to sing - a tenor and a baritone. Then the drowned began. Love's Labours Lost. [KM Notebooks]
My own Love,
We ask again and again at the P.O. but the strike continues and there is no news; no letters or wires are sent or received. We are quite shut off. My reviews are I suppose at Vintimille. I shall have nothing in this week. I sent the Chinese Poetry on Wednesday and on Thursday Limpidus & Coggin, but they'll not arrive. This is really very strange & terrible. On Wednesday I go to Mentone to L'Hermitage Menton. We cannot get there before, neither can we communicate with Menton now.
I came downstairs today - it is a dark, very silent day. I began to prepare to go away - to sort & tie up your letters and to burn all others. As I went through them words, phrases, half sentences, started up - "my darling" - & "tell me about yourself" or "I hold you in my arms". Oh - what anguish! What anguish! Will you ever write so again? Love Love Love overcomes me. I knelt by the fire - trying to bear it. Yet, whatever happens, if you no longer keep me in that wonderful place in your heart where I lay so long - whatever happens, my own Bogey- For this wonderful love you gave me may you be blessed for ever more. [To J.M.Murry in Collected Letters]