How I wish you were to companion us. In Sicily, I often thought of you, far off Brother of Theocritus. You would so delight in it all, the Present that mirrors the magical Past; the Past that penetrates like stars the purple veils of the Present.
Yes, I know well how sincere is all you say as to the loving friend awaiting me—awaiting us—if ever we cross the Atlantic: but it is gladsome to hear it all the same. All affectionate greetings to dear Mrs. Stedman, a true and dear friend.
Ever, dear Stedman,
Your loving friend,
William Sharp.
13th Sept., 1903.
Dear Mrs. Gilchrist,
It is at all times a great pleasure to hear from you, and that pleasure is enhanced by hearing from you on my birthday and by your kind remembrance of the occasion....
We look forward to Athens greatly, though it is not (as in Elizabeth’s case) my first visit to that land of entrancing associations and still ever-present beauty. But as one grows older, one the more recognises that ‘climate’ and ‘country’ belong to the geography of the soul rather than to that secondary physical geography of which we hear so much. The winds of heaven, the dreary blast of the wilderness, the airs of hope and peace, the tragic storms and cold inclemencies—these are not the property of our North or South or East, but are of the climes self-made or inherited or in some strange way become our ‘atmosphere.’ And the country we dream of, that we long for, is not yet reached by Cook nor even chartered by Baedeker. You and yours are often in our thought. In true friendship, distance means no more than that the sweet low music is far off: but it is there.
Your friend,