Previous document

Next document

gri_2003_m_46_b03_f10_025

Transcribers

  1. 65768596 - Vellamoinen
  2. 65798904 - dguent
  3. 65816133 - samurai13
  4. 65887373 - Preacher357
  5. WINNER - 65919359 - mar15ted
  6. 65940284 - Vmargene

65768596 - Vellamoinen

I have taken your advice, rung Paul up, and I am to meet him
tomorrow evening. Also tomorrow I have another lecture, in
the morning.

Here is a poem for you, my love, perhaps part of a sequence to
include the last poem I sent you, the card game one :

In the shortage of centaurs
What can you use for journeys,
What can you use, but clouds,
So nearly soft but truly couched?

The local gods of the weather,
The major gods of climate,
Put at your disposal
These numinous conveyances.

Zephyrus alone
Is zealous with cloud couches,
Chariots, never phaetons,
To cross long plantations.

So with the weather-changes
Clouds shall transport you here,
Though when we meet, Phoebus dispense,
With the currency of clouds.

I am interested to hear that you have done some more work on 'Paint-
ing out of Doors' - I look forward to reading it very much. In
reading Clark's Leonardo book I have come across some small de-
tails about Giorgione of which I have made a note for your use
later on. Are you still reading S. Sitwell... I have finished
Swann in Love: it is really astonishing.

I lonfg to live with you again, my warm, generous, beautiful
creature, dazzling rose at the centre of the labyrinth of life.
It is infuriating that our pleasures should be postponed, our
love delayed, for want of a little money. (Yawolla has gone
out masked, with a sack, and a cudgel.) Oh my dearest love,
you are never out of my thoughts, a glorious overpowering image
in my pre-conscious in those few minutes of activity when you
are not consciously in my mind. How rare, whether lecturing
or travelling, reading or writing, eating or sleeping, are the
moments when I do not adoringly contemplate your images, your
memory, my hope for the future, as though turning over a magni-
ficent, endless Emblem Book, illustrated by your art, your imagina-
tion, your body.

Sylvia I love you
Lawrence

65798904 - dguent

I have taken your advice, rung Paul up, and I am to meet him tomorrow evening. Also tomorrow I have another lecture, in the morning.

Here is a poem for you, my love, perhaps part of a sequence to include the last poem I sent you, the card game one:

In the shortage of centaurs
What can you use for journeys,
What can you use, but clouds,
So nearly soft but truly couched?

The local gods of the weather,
The major gods of climate,
Put at your disposal
These numinous conveyances.

Zephyrus alone
Is zealous with cloud couches,
Chariots, never phaetons,
To cross the long plantations.

So with the weather-changes
Clouds shall transport you here,
Though when we meet, Phoebus dispense,
With the currency of clouds.

I am interested to hear you have done some more work on 'Painting out of Doors' - I look forward to reading it very much. In reading Clark's Leonardo book I have come across some small details about Giorgione of which I have made a note for your use later on. Are you still reading S. Sitwel... I have finished Swann in Love: it is really astonishing.

I long to live with you again, my warm, generous, beautiful creature, dazzling rose at the centre of the labyrinth of life. It is infuriating that our pleasures should be postponed, our love delayed, for want of a little money. (Yawolla has gone out masked, with a sack, and cudgel.) Oh my dearest love, you are never out of my thoughts, a glorious overpowering image in my pre-conscious in those few minutes of activity when you are not consciously in my mind. How rare, whether lecturing or travelling, reading or writing, eating or sleeping, are the moments when I do not adoringly contemplate you images, your memory, my hope for the future, as though turning over a magnificent, endless Emblem Book, illustrated by your art, your imagination, your body.
Sylvia I love you
Lawrence

65816133 - samurai13

I have taken your advice, rung Paul up, and I am to meet him tomorrow evening. Also tomorrow I have another lecture, in the morning.

Here is a poem for you, my love, perhaps part of a sequence to include the last poem I sent you, the card game one:

In the shortage of centaurs
What can you use for journeys,
What can you use, but clouds,
So nearly soft but truly couched?

The local gods of the weather,
The major gods of climate,
Put at your disposal
These numinous conveyances.

Zephyrus alone
Is zealous with cloud couches,
Chariots, never phaetons,
To cross the long plantations.

So with the weather-changes
Clouds shall transport you here,
Though when we meets, Phoebus dispense,
With the currency of clouds.

I am interested to hear you have done some more work on 'Painting out of Doors' - I look forward to reading it very much. In reading Clark's Leonardo book I have come across some small details about Giorgione of which I have made a note for your use later on. Are you still reading S. Sitwell... I have finished Swann in Love: it is really astonishing.

I long to live with you again, my warm, generous, beautiful creature, dazzling rose at the centre of the labyrinth of life. It is infuriating that our pleasures should be postponed, our love delayed, for want of a little money. (Yawolla has gone out masked, with a sack, and a cudgel.) Oh my dearest love, you are never out of my thoughts, a glorious overpowering image in my pre-conscious in those few minutes of activity when you are not consciously in my mind. How rare, whether lecturing or travelling, reading or writing, eating or sleeping, are the moments when I do not adoringly contemplate your images, your memory, my hope for the future, as though turning over a magnificent, endless Emblem Book, illustrated by your art, your imagination, your body.

Sylvia I love you

Lawrence

65887373 - Preacher357

I have taken your advice, rung Paul up, and I am to meet him
tomorrow evening. Also tomorrow I have another lecture, in
the morning.

Here is a poem for you, my love, perhaps part of a sequence to
include the last poem I sent you, the card game one:

In the shortage of centaurs
What can you use for journeys,
What can you use, but clouds,
So nearly soft but truly couched?

The local gods of the weather,
The major gods of climate,
Put at your disposal
These numinous conveyances.

Zephyrus alone
Is zealous with cloud couches,
Chariots, never phaetons,
To cross the long plantations.

So with the weather changes
Clouds shall transport you here,
Though when we meet, Phoebus dispense,
With the currency of clouds.

I am interested to hear you have done some more work on 'Paint-
ing Out of Doors', I look forward to reading it very much. In
reading Clark's Leonardo book I have come across some small de-
tails about Giorginne of which I have made a note for your use
later on. Are you still reading S. Sitwell... I have finished
Swann in Love; It is really astonishing.

I long to live with you again, my warm, generous, beautiful
creatures, dazzling rose at the centre of the labyrinth of life.
It is infuriating that our pleasures should be postponed, our
love delayed, for want of a little money. (Yawolla has gone
out masked, with a sack, and a cudgel.) Oh my dearest love,
you are never out of my thoughts, a glorious overpowering image
in my pre-conscious in those few minutes of activity when you
are not consciously in my mind. How rare, whether lecturing
or traveling, reading or writing, eating or sleeping, are the
moments when I do not adoringly contemplate your images, your
memory, my hope for the future, as though turning over a magni-
ficent, endless Emblem Book, illustrated by your art, your imagination, your body.
Sylvia I love you
Lawrence

WINNER - 65919359 - mar15ted

I have taken your advice, rung Paul up, and I am to meet him tomorrow evening. Also tomorrow I have another lecture, in the morning. Here is a poem for you, my love, perhaps part of a sequence to include the last poem I sent you, the card game one: In the shortage of centaurs What can you use for journeys, What can you use, but clouds, So nearly soft but truly couched? The local gods of the weather, The major gods of climate, Put at your disposal These numinous conveyances. Zephyrus alone Is zealous with cloud couches, Chariots, never phaetons, To cross the long plantations. So with the weather-changes Clouds shall transport you here, Though when we meet, Phoebus dispense, With the currency of clouds. I am interested to hear you have done some more work on 'Painting out of Doors' - I look forward to reading it very much. In reading Clark's Leonardo book I have come across some small details about Giorgione of which I have made a note for your use later on. Are you still reading S. Sitwell...I have finished Swann in Love: it is really astonishing. I long to live with you again, my warm, generous, beautiful creature, dazzling rose at the centre of the labyrinth of life. It is infuriating that our pleasures should be postponed, our love delayed, for want of a little money. (Yawolla has gone out masked, with a sack, and a cudgel.) Oh my dearest love, you are never out of my thoughts, a glorious overpowering image in my pre-conscious in those few minutes of activity when you are not consciously in my mind. How rare, whether lecturing or travelling, reading or writing, eating or sleeping, are the moments when I do not adoringly contemplate your images your memory, my hope for the future, as though turning over a magnificent, endless Emblem Book, illustrated by your art, your imagination, your body. Sylvia I love you Lawrence

65940284 - Vmargene

I have taken your advice, rung Paul up, and I am to meet him
tomorrow evening. Also tomorrow I have another lecture, in
the morning.

Here is a poem for you, my love, perhaps part of a sequence to include the last poem I sent you, the card game one:
In the shortage of centaurs
What can you use for journeys,
What can you use, but clouds,
So nearly soft but truly couched?

The local gods of the weather,
The major gods of climate,
Put at your disposal
These numinous conveyances.

Zephyrus alone
Is zealous with cloud couches,
Chariots, never phantoms,
To cross the long plantations.

So with the weather-changes
Clouds shall transport you here,
Though when we meet, Phoebus dispense
With the currency of clouds.

I am interested to hear you have done some more work on 'Paint-
ing out of Doors' - I look forward to reading it very much. In
reading Clark's Leonardo book I have come across some small de-
tails about Giorgione of which I have made a note for your use
later on. Are you still reading S. Stillwell... I have finished
Swann in love: it is really astonishing.

I long to live with you again, my warm, generous, beautiful
creature, dazzling rose, at the centre of the labyrinth of life.
It is infuriating that our pleasures should be postponed, our
love delayed, for want of a little money. (Yawolla has gone
out masked, with a sack, and a cudgel.) Oh my dearest love,
you are never out of my thoughts, a glorious overpowering image
in my pre-conscious in those few minutes of activity when you
are not consciously in my mind. Now rare, whether lecturing
or traveling, reading or writing, eating or sleeping, are the
moments when I do not adoringly contemplate your images, your
memory, my hope for the future, as though turning over a magni-
ficent endless Emblem Book, illustrated by your art, your imagina-
tion, your body.
Sylvia I love you, Lawrence

Previous document

Next document