BRACERS Record Detail for 17244
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"Friday 5 p.m." "It was dreadful leaving you, although it is such a short time till Tuesday. I am utterly filled with love—every thought I have is for you darling. I long to do better things for you than I have ever done yet. My whole energy is bent to making our love great and fruitful. I live in you, and through you in a world where everything is great and solemn and beautiful—like the evening light in our wood. My soul is filled with things for which I cannot yet find utterance, but it will come. I do feel now that we are really united, and it is a union which nothing can shake because it is independent of physical love and of everything accidental—it is our inmost being where we meet most fully. You mustn't think you do very little to help me as you said today. That is utterly untrue. You free my spirit from all inward trammels, you give me the good that I respond to, all my best leaps to meet your thoughts, and you make me live. Before, I had great difficulty in making myself think about philosophy, but now I think about it easily and well—something in our crisis made love become a stimulus to abstract thought instead of a distraction—partly, too, it comes simply of seeing you. Between lunch and tea today I wrote a whole chapter (11 pages) on the limits of philosophical knowledge, [ch. XIV, the penultimate chapter of Problems of Philosophy] as I decided while we were together in the wood this morning."
BR TO OTTOLINE MORRELL, [4 AUG. 1911]
BRACERS 17244. ALS. Morrell papers #164, Texas
Proofread by K. Blackwell et al.
My Dearest Dearest
It was dreadful leaving you, altho’ it is such a short time till Tuesday. I am utterly filled with love — every thought I have is for you, Darling. I long to do better things for you than I have ever done yet. My whole energy is bent to making our love great and fruitful. I live in you, and through you in a world where everything is great and solemn and beautiful — like the evening light in our wood. My soul is filled with things for which I cannot yet find utterance, but it will come. I do feel now that we are really united, and it is a union which nothing can shake because it is independent of physical love and of everything accidental — it is our inmost being where we meet most fully. You mustn’t think you do very little to help me, as you said today. That is utterly untrue. You free my spirit from all inward trammels, you give me the good that I respond to, all my best leaps to meet your thoughts, and you make me live. Before, I had great difficulty in making myself think about philosophy, but now I think about it easily and well — something in our crisis made love become a stimulus to abstract thought instead of a distraction — partly, too, it comes simply of seeing more of you. Between lunch and tea today I wrote a whole chapter (11 pages) on the limits of philosophical knowledge,3 as I decided while we were together in the wood this morning.
I enjoyed meeting your brother very much, and liked him greatly. He has a very sensitive mouth, hasn’t he? Philip is very good — he makes me feel that he bears me no ill will.
I mustn’t post this here, on account of Miss Lindsay, so I shall go out on my bicycle and find a post box somewhere. Please don’t try to write me more than just a line, I don’t want you to tire your eyes and head on my account. Just a word is a great joy. Tomorrow morning you might address to Trinity, Sunday to Paddington Hotel, where I shall arrive late on Monday — unless an express letter would arrive Monday at Cambridge, which I doubt.
Tuesday I will go to Reading, leaving Paddington 9.50 unless you telegraph to the contrary. It will take me about 3/4 of an hour from Reading, so I shan’t arrive till about 11.45.
Goodbye my Beloved. All my heart is yours and all my mind.
Your utterly devoted
B.
