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The Letters of Katherine Mansfield: Volume I

July 29, 1919 —

page 239
July 29, 1919

To the Hon. Dorothy Brett

Are you drawing? Have you made flower drawings? I wish you would do a whole Flower Book—Quarto size—with one page to each flower—its leaves, roots, buds, petals—all its little exquisite life in colour—very delicate with an insect or two creeping in or a blade of grass or a tiny snail. I see something wonderful. Did you ever see those books Karl Larsen made of his house and garden and children? They didn't need any words at all—They were fascinating. I wish you would make such a book; you have just the vision for it—delicate—and light, light as a flying feather. But I daresay you will rap me over the head for my imperence—But time is flying—soon or late it will be closing time—let us be divinely drunk while we may—

I wish you did not mind what they say—what anybody says. Why are you hurt by G.'s wooden airs? I think like the man in Mr. Polly, he wants his head boiling—he wants the Mighty to say to him, “Oh, boil your head!” Whenever I hear his absurd literary opinions I burn to make that my cry.

Now, what is the news. M.'s poems are out! and he is printing at lightning speed a long story of mine—We are both slaves to the Athene but when we do escape we are happy and talk and build sand castles. Will the treacherous tide have them—knock them flat? I don't know.

The wind set up such a song in my bones that my dear doctor is once more sticking longer, stronger needles into my behind. Although I walk like the only child of a crab and an Indian colonel I feel it is going to do the trick. Pray for me, Brett. Burn a candle for me if there is a Roman Catholic chapel in Oxford.

It is a very quiet day here, green and silver—the movement of the leaves is so secret, so silent, that I could watch them all day—I try to find words for how they lift and fall.