Sunday, September 9, 2007
The staircases, galleries, bopeeps are inexpressible: it takes a fortnight to learn them. Pipes of affliction convey lukewarm water of affliction to some of the rooms, others more fortunate have fires. The garden is all heights, terraces, Excelsiors, misty mountain tops, seats up trees called Crows' Nests, flights of steps seemingly up to heaven lined with burning aspiration upon aspiration of scarlet geraniums: it is very pretty and airy but it gives you the impression that if you took a step farther you would find yourself somewhere on Plenimmon, Conway Castle, or Salisbury Craig. With best love to detachments stationed Hampstead believe me your loving son
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3 comments:
Gerard M. Hopkins S.J. to his father, Aug. 29, 1874
You'll come to notice (maybe) a circularity in my quotes. I have semi-promised myself that I will bring no new books into my house (for a year or so) and so force myself to thoroughly engage the old ones. As a result, your proposed Rooks project hit the spot. I'll be reading/re-reading all my old books but really I'll be following our discussion/collage through them. I imagine I could read them this way for the rest of my life. Each new collage would provide an entirely different way of reading the same old new books.
one last bit of biznes--I lost my phone and with it your number. Send it to me via hotmail when you have a chance.
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