Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson — Volume 1 by Robert Louis Stevenson
page 83 of 413 (20%)
page 83 of 413 (20%)
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No, I can write no article just now; I am PIOCHING, like a madman,
at my stories, and can make nothing of them; my simplicity is tame and dull - my passion tinsel, boyish, hysterical. Never mind - ten years hence, if I live, I shall have learned, so help me God. I know one must work, in the meantime (so says Balzac) COMME LE MINEUR ENFOUI SOUS UN EBOULEMENT. J'Y PARVIENDRAI, NOM DE NOM DE NOM! But it's a long look forward. - Ever yours, R. L. S. Letter: TO MRS. SITWELL [BARBIZON, APRIL 1875.] MY DEAR FRIEND, - This is just a line to say I am well and happy. I am here in my dear forest all day in the open air. It is very be - no, not beautiful exactly, just now, but very bright and living. There are one or two song birds and a cuckoo; all the fruit-trees are in flower, and the beeches make sunshine in a shady place, I begin to go all right; you need not be vexed about my health; I really was ill at first, as bad as I have been for nearly a year; but the forest begins to work, and the air, and the sun, and the smell of the pines. If I could stay a month here, I should be as right as possible. Thanks for your letter. - Your faithful |
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