Your letters always warm me a little, not with laughing, but with the soft glow of life, for I live mostly with "la mort dans l'ame." (It is curious that the French, whom one thinks of as slight and frivolous, have this true and deep expression for the forms of sorrow that kill, as opposed to those that discipline and strengthen.) And your words and thoughts just soften and warm like west wind.
It is nice being able to please you with what I'm writing, and that you can tell people I'm not so horrid.
Here's the "Fors" you saw the proof of, but this isn't quite right yet.
The Willy [44] quotations are very delightful. Do you know that naughty [Pg 74] "Cowley" at all? There's all kind of honey and strawberries in him.
It is bitter cold here these last days. I don't stir out, but must this afternoon. I've to go out to dinner and work at the Arundel Society. And if you only knew what was in my thoughts you would be so sorry for me, that I can't tell you.
Corpus Christi College, Oxford
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What a sad little letter! written in that returned darkness. How can you ever be sad, looking forward to eternal life with all whom you love, and God over all?