gri_2003_m_46_b04_f10_016
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- Mean dissimilarity: 0.355
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Transcribers
- 67027079 - Salwell
- 67151434 - jsprake
- 67205953 - Preacher357
- 67414133 - mikethebike2
- WINNER - 67776845 - not-logged-in-3d1720cf309399d195fc
- 68272541 - clewarne
67027079 - Salwell
Blackheath12 ix 1951
Dearest Sylvia,
How wonderful to have a letter from you again: I have not
had one since monday; it seems - it is - an age. I am stay-
ing the night at Cambridge again so i shall get your letter
this evening: two in one day; that's what lions like best,
they say.
How I wish I were with you while you painted ay the oak and
in the garden. I remember reading you Pound in Mrs Hake's
garden! By the way, speaking of Pound, here is the poem about
H.M., rather influenced by Ezra P. I don't think it is success-
ful really but I am glad I tried it.
In the two days at home I have written a film article about
Strangers on a Train and His Kind of Woman: both have sorts of a
doppelganger. I have quite finished the part concerning the
former - a little remains of the later to do. (Perhaps I can
finish it in the train today.) I am planing also an article
comparing Satre's Morts sans sepulchres and an American
film Brut Force.
Clifford and Marjorie's reaction to the news that Carol is
returning to the village for half-term is odd, very odd. They
seem to be persecuting the girl. Are they guilty? I take it
they must be. I quite agree with you about having a soft spot
for Carol and I do not think for one moment that she thinks
you foolish for it. My impression is that she appreciated
you very much indeed.
Your dreams express exactly how I feel also. I long to see
you. I thought of you last night very passionately for I read
the article about Indian sculpture in The Listener (how very
congenial) which you recommended to me the other day. It was
interesting. I long to be a MITHUNA group with you again.
I love you, I love you
Lawrence
HERE is the LAMENT IMPERIAL:
Hypertrophy of flowers
Before withering to a yellow core:
Girth before collapse.
Decadent petals peel till the stem
Is blind in naked air
the air
In which our anthems are shapes
The sheets ghosts used to wear
(so Persia's peeled)
A carpet trophy.
67151434 - jsprake
Blackheath12 ix 1951
Dearest Sylvia,
How wonderful to have a letter from you again: I have not
had one since Monday; it seems - it is - an age. I am stay-
ing the night at Cambridge again so I shall get your letter
this evening: two in one day; that's what lions like best,
they say.
How I wish I were with you while you painted at the Oak and
in the garden. I remember reading you Pound in Mrs. Hake's
garden! By the way, speaking of Pound, here is the poem about
H.M., rather influenced by Ezra P. I don't think it is success-
ful really but I am glad I tried it.
In the two days at home I have written a film article about
Strangers on a Train and His Kind of Woman: both have sorts of
doppelganger. I have quite finished the part concerning the
former - a little remains of the latter to do. (Perhaps I can
finish it in the train today.) I am planning also an article comparing Sartre's Morts sans sepulchers and an American prison
file Brute Force.
Clifford and Marjorie's reaction to the news that Carol is
returning to the village for half-term is odd, very odd. They
seem to be persecuting the girl. Are they guilty? I take it
they must be. I quite agree with you about having a soft spot
for Carol and I do not think for one moment that she thinks you foolish for it. My impression is that she appreciated
you very much indeed.
Your dreams express exactly how I feel also. I long to see
you. I thought of you last night very passionately for I read
the article about Indian sculpture in The Listener (how very
congenial) which you recommended to me the other day. It was
interesting. I long to be MITHUNA group with you again.
I love you, I love you
Lawrence
HERE is the LAMENT IMPERIAL:
Hypertrophy of flowers
Before withering to a yellow core:
Girth before collapse.
Decadent petals peel till the stem
Is blind in naked air
the air
In which our anthems are shapes
The sheets ghosts used to wear
(so Persia's peeled)
A carpet trophey.
67205953 - Preacher357
Blackheath 12 ix 1951 Dearest Sylvia,How wonderful to have a letter from yo again: I have not
had one since Monday; it seems - it is - an age. I am stay-
ing the night at Cambridge again so I shall get your letter
this evening: two in one day; that's what lions like best,
they say.
How I wish I were with you while you painted at the Oak and
in the garden. I remember reading you Pound in Mrs Hake's
Garden! By the way, speaking of Pound, here is the poem about
H.M., rather influenced by Ezra P. I don't think it is success-
ful really but I am glad I tried it.
In the two days at home I have written a film article about
Strangers on a Train and His Kind of Woman: both have sorts of
doppelganger. I have quite finished the part concerning the
former - a little remains of the latter to do. (Perhaps I can
finish it in the train today.) I am planning also an article
comparing Sartre's Morts sans sepulchres and an American prison
film Brute Force.
Clifford and Marjorie's reaction to the news that Carol is
returning to the village for half-term is odd, very odd. They
seem to be persecuting the girl. Are they guilty? I take it
they must be. I quite agree with you about having a soft spot
for Carol and I do not think for one moment that she thinks
you foolish for it. My impression is that she appreciated
you very much indeed.
Your dreams express exactly how I feel also. I long to see
you. I thought of you last night very passionately for I read
the article about Indian sculpture in The Listener (how very
congenial) which you reccomend to me the other day. It was
interesting. I long to be a MITHUNA group with you again.
I love you, I love you
Lawrence
HERE is the LAMENT IMPERIAL:
Hypertrophy of flowers
Before withering to a yellow core:
Girth before collapse.
Decadent petals peel till the stem
Is blind in naked air
the air
In which our anthems are shapes
To sheets ghosts used to wear
(so Persia's peeled)
A carpet trophey.
67414133 - mikethebike2
WINNER - 67776845 - not-logged-in-3d1720cf309399d195fc
Blackheath12 ix 1951
Dearest Sylvia,
How wonderful to have a letter from you again: I have not had one since Monday; it seems - it is - an age. I am stay-ing the night at Cambridge again so I shall get your letter this evening: two in one day; that's what lions like best, they say.
How I wish I were with you while you painted at the Oak and in the garden. I remember reading you Pound in Mrs Hake's garden! By the way, speaking of Pound, here is the poem about H.M., rather influenced by Ezra P. I don't think it is success-ful really but I am glad I tried it.
In the two days at home I have written a film article about Strangers on a Train and His Kind of Woman: both have sorts of doppelganger. I have quite finished the part concerning the former - a little remains of the latter to do. (Perhaps I can finish it in the train today.) I am planning also an article comparing Sartre's Morts sans sepulchres and an American prison film Brute Force.
Clifford and Marjorie's reaction to the news that Carol is returning to the village for half-term is odd, very odd. They seem to be persecuting the girl. Are they guilty? I take it they must be. I quite agree with you about having a soft spot for Carol and I do not think for one moment that she thinks you foolish for it. My impression is that she appreciated you very much indeed.
Your dreams express exactly how I feel also. I long to see you. I thought of you last night very passionately for I read the article about Indian sculpture in The Listener (how very congenial) which you recommended to me the other day. It was interesting. I long to be a MITHUNA group with you again.
I love you, love you, Lawrence
HERE is the LAMENT IMPERIAL:
Hypertrophy of flowers
Before withering to a yellow core:
Girth before collapse.
Decadent petals peel till the stem
Is blind in naked air
the air
In which our anthems are shapes
The sheets ghosts used to wear
(so Persia's peeled)
A carpet trophey.
68272541 - clewarne
Blackheath12 ix 1951
Dearest Sylvia,
How wonderful to have a letter from you again; I have not
had one since Monday; it seems - it is - an age. I am stay-
ing the night at Cambridge again so I shall get your letter
this evening: two in one day; that's what lions like best,
they say.
How I wish I were with you while you painted at the Cak and
in the garden. I remember reading you Pound in Mrs Hake's
garden! By the way, speaking of Pound, here is the poem about
H.M., rather influenced by Ezra P. I don't think it is success-
ful really but I am glad I tried it.
In the two days at home I have written a film article about
Strangers on a Train and His Kind of Woman: both have sorts of
doppelganger. I have quite finished the part concerning the
former - a little remains of the latter to do. (Perhaps I can
finish it in the train today.) I am planning also an article
comparing Sartre's Morts sans sepulchres and an American prison
film Brute Force.
Clifford and Marjorie's reaction to the news that Carol is
returning to the village for half-term is odd, very odd. They
seem to be persecuting the girl. Are they guilty? I take it
they must be. I quite agree with you about having a soft spot
for Carol and I do not think for one moment that she thinks
you foolish for it. My impression is that she appreciated
you very much indeed.
Your dreams express exactly how I feel also. I long to see
you. I thought of you last night very passionately for I read
the article about Indian sculpture in The Listener (how very
congenial) which you recommended to me the other day. It was
interesting. I long to be a MITHUNA group with you again.
I love you, love you
Lawrence
HERE is the LAMENT IMPERIAL:
Hypertrophy of flowers
Before withering to a yellow core:
Girth before collapse.
Decadent petals peel till the stem
Is blind in naked air
the air
In which our anthems are shapes
The sheets ghosts used to wear
(so Peria's peeled)
A carpet trophey.