gri_2003_m_46_b01_f09_063
- Max. dissimilarity: 1.0
- Mean dissimilarity: 0.352
- Image votes: 0.0
Transcribers
- 65307379 - not-logged-in-981020a6a1293c35bc27
- 65322649 - not-logged-in-ab7f19adcc468523d843
- 65349210 - not-logged-in-c9b2c93efc284b846cb0
- 65367923 - wshrike
- 65373022 - not-logged-in-fb41a3f7bf3098eb7bad
- WINNER - 65541101 - southsidesunny
65307379 - not-logged-in-981020a6a1293c35bc27
11, Mansel Road,Wimbeldon.
24th October 1948
Dearest Sylvia,
How pleasant it must be at Pett this weekend, the weather being what it is. I hope you will not forget Apollo's part. I have been reading Jung and it has been wonderful to find all our allusions, images, symbols, games, referred by him to the creative energy of libido and never to any of the destructive varients. The sun, the word 'gold', even the 'flames' round your locket combine in a unified expression of love.
You are magnificient: your body, your intelligence. I love you.
I long for You, Sylvia. I think of you continually. Never allow our love to be interfered with by circumstances or by guilt. I love you. You have remembered what I said to Clifford. It is true: if only we could have the chance to show it in a sustained experience. I love you, Sylvia, and have felt no diminution of desire. Nor will I. I long for more than a single meeting once a month. I love you, as I am sure you believe again.
Tell me how you feel about things now. Has the feeling of indifference gone? If so, what has replaced it? Each other's love is so necessary: yours to me and mine to you. I am so much in love with you that I sometimes almost believe that I shall appear at Pett in a powerful libido (or is it Lagonda or what?) and carry you away, screaming, faintly so as not to arouse anybody. I love you.
I hope you have a nice weekend with the Philips. I imagine you in various dresses and envied them their privilege which I am sure they appreciated.
This evening I am going to Molly's: Iris, Charles and some other people will be there. I think I shall risk my fete trousers for the first time socially. Please, Minerva, accept this letter as an offering from the altar in the rose alcove. Now I shall be alright.
What I wonder are the things you have to tell me which you hinted at in your provocative and loving last letter? How I treasure those words of love.
You forgot to tell me by the way if I can see your tree picture, if it is in London yet. Do tell me.
65322649 - not-logged-in-ab7f19adcc468523d843
11, Mansel Road,Wimbledon.
24th October 1948
Dearest Sylvia,
How pleasant it must be at Pett this weekend, the weather being what it is. I hope you will not forget Apollo's part. I have been reading Jung and it has been wonderful to find all our allusions, images, symbols, games, referred by him to the creative energy of libido and never to any of the destructive varients. The sun, the word 'gold', even the 'flames' round your locket combine in a unified expression of love.
You are magnificient: your body, your intelligence. I love you.
I long for You, Sylvia. I think of you continually. Never allow our love to be interferred with by circumstances or by guilt. I love you. You have remembered what I said to Clifford. It is true: if only we could have the chance to show it in a sustained experience. I love you, Sylvia, and have felt no diminution of desire. Nor will I. I long for more than a single meeting once a month. I love you, as I am sure you believe again.
Tell me how you feel about things now. Has the feel-ing of indifference gone? If so, what has replace it? Each other's love is so necessary: yours to me and mine to you. I am so much in love with you that I sometimes almost believe that I shall appear at Pett in a powerful libido (or is it lagonda or what?) and carry you away, screaming, faintly so as not to arouse anybody. I love you.
I hope you have a nice week-end with the Philips. I imagine you in various dresses and envied them their privilege which I am sure they appreciated.
This evening I am going to Molly's: Iris, Charles, and some other people will be there. I think I shall risk my fete trousers for the first time socially. Please, Minerva, accept this letter as an offering from the altar in the rose alcove. Now I shall be alright.
What I wonder are the things you have to tell me which you hinted at in your provocative and loving last letter? How I treasure those words of love.
You forgot to tell me by the way if I can see your tree-picture, if it is in London yet. Do tell me.
65349210 - not-logged-in-c9b2c93efc284b846cb0
11, Mansel Road, Wimbledon.245h October 1948
Dearest Sylvia,
How pleasant it must be at Pett this weekend, the weather being what it is. I hope you will not forget Apollo's part. I have been reading Jung and it has been wonderful to find all our allusions, images, symbols, games, referred by him to the creative energy of libido and never to any of the destructive varients. The sun, the word 'gold,' even the 'flames,' around your locket combine in a unified expression of love.
You are magnificent: your body, your intelligence. I love you.
I long for You, Sylvia. I think of you continually. Never allow our love to be interfered with by circumstances or by guilt. I love you. You have remembered what I said to Clifford. It is true: if only we could have the chance to show it in a sustained experience. I love you, Sylvia, and have felt no diminution of desire. Nor will I. I long for more than a single meeting once a month. I love you, as I am sure you believe again.
Tell me how you feel about things now. Has the feeling of indifference gone? If so, what has replaced it? Each other's love is so necessary: yours to me and mine to you. I am so much in love with you that I sometimes almost believe that I shall appear at Pett in a powerful libido (or is it lagona or what?) and carry you away, screaming, faintly so as not to arouse anybody. I love you.
I hope you have a nice week-end with the Phillips. I imagine you in various dresses and envied them their privilege which I am sure they appreciated.
This evening I am going to Molly's: Iris, Charles, and some other people will be there. I think I shall risk my fete trousers for the first time socially. Please, Minerva, accept this letter as an offering from the alter in the rose alcove. Now I shall be alright.
What I wonder are the things you have to tell me which you hinted at in your provocative and loving last letter? How I treasure those words of love.
You forgot to tell me by the way if I can see your tree-picture, if it is in London yet. Do tell me.
65367923 - wshrike
11, Mansel Road,Wimbledon.
24th October 1948
Dearest Sylvia,
How pleasant it must be at Pett this weekend, the weather being what it is. I hope you will not forget Apollo's part. I have been reading Jung and it has been wonderful to find all our allusions, images, symbols, games, referred by him to the creative energy of libido and never to any of the destructive variants. The sun, the word 'gold', even the 'flames' round your locket combine in a unified expression of love.
You are magnificent: your body, your intelligence. I love you.
I long for You, Sylvia. I think of you continually. Never allow our love to be interfered with by circumstances of by guilt. I love you. You have remembered what I said to Clifford. It is true: if only we could have the chance to show it in a sustained experience. I love you, Sylvia, and have felt no diminution of desire. Nor will I. I long for more than a single meeting once a month. I love you, as I am sure you believe again.
Tell me how you feel about things now. Has the feeling of indifference gone? If so, what has replaced it? Each other's love is so necessary: yours to me and mine to you. I am so much in love with you that I sometimes almost believe that I shall appear at Pett in a powerful libido (or is it lagona or what?) and carry you away, screaming faintly so as not to arouse anybody. I love you.
I hope you have a nice weekend with the Philips. I imagine you in various dresses and envied them their privilege which I am sure they appreciated.
This evening I am going to Molly's: Iris, Charles, and some other people will be there. I think I shall risk my fete trousers for the first time socially. Please Minerva, accept this letter as an offering from the altar in the rose alcove. Now I shall be alright.
What I wonder are the things you have to tell me which you hinted at in your provocative and loving last letter? How I treasure those words of love.
You forgot to tell me by the way if I can see your tree-picture, if it is in London yet. Do tell me.
65373022 - not-logged-in-fb41a3f7bf3098eb7bad
HWINNER - 65541101 - southsidesunny
11, Mansel RoadWimbledon.
24th October 1948
Dearest Sylvia,
How pleasant it must be at Pett this weekend, the wea-
ther being what it is. I hope that you will not forget Apollo's
part. I have been reading Jung and it has been wonderful
to find all our allusions, images, symbols, games, referred
by him to the creative energy of libido and never to any
of the destructive varients. The sun, the word 'gold', even the 'flames' round your locket combine in a unified expression of love.
You are magnificient: your body, your intelligence.
I love you.
I long for You, Sylvia. I think of you continually.
Never allow our love to be interferred with by circumstances
or by guilt. I love you. You have remembered what I said
to Clifford. It is true: if only we could have the chance
to show it in a sustained experience. I love you, Sylvia,
and have felt no diminution of desire. Nor will I.
I long for more than a single meeting once a month. I love
you as I am sure you believe again.
Tell me how you feel about things now. Has the feel-
ing if indifference gone? If so, what has replaced it?
Each other's love is so necessary: yours to me and mine
to you. I am so much in love with you that I sometimes
almost believe that I shall appear at Pett in a power-
ful libido (or is it lagonda or what?) and carry you away,
screaming, faintly so as not to arouse anybody. I love
you.
I hope you have a nice week-end with the Philips.
I imagine you in various dresses and envied them their
privilege which I am sure they appreciated.
This evening I am going to Molly's: Iris, Charles,
and some other people will be there. I think I shall
risk my fete trousers for the first time socially. Please,
Minerva, accept this letter as an offering from the altar
in the rose alcove. Now I shall be alright.
What I wonder are the things you have to tell me which
you inhaled at in your provocative and loving last letter?
How I treasure those words of love.
You forgot to tell me by the way if I can see your tree-
picture, if it is in London yet. Do tell me.