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Quote by Violet Trefusis

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Violet to Vita: the letters of Violet Trefusis to Vita Sackville-West, 1910-21

This book features a series of letters exchanged between Violet Trefusis and Vita Sackville-West, spanning from 1910 to 1921. The correspondence delves into their personal lives, artistic inspirations, and the evolving dynamics of their friendship. The letters offer a candid glimpse into the lives of two influential figures in early 20th-century literature and society. more

Author

Violet Trefusis
Violet Trefusis

Violet Trefusis was a British writer renowned for her romantic novels and personal correspondence. A contemporary of Virginia Woolf and Vita Sackville-West, Trefusis's writing delved into themes of love, desire, and social class, characterized by vivid and intimate prose. She was born on June 6, 1894, and passed away on February 29, 1972. more

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“Madame, it is an old word and each one takes it new and wears it out himself. It is a word that fills with meaning as a bladder with air and the meaning goes out of it as quickly. It may be punctured as a bladder is punctured and patched and blown up again and if you have not had it does not exist for you. All people talk of it, but those who have had it are marked by it, and I would not wish to speak of it further since of all things it is the most ridiculous to talk of and only fools go through it many times.”

“Where both deliberate, the love is slight: Who ever lov'd, that lov'd not at first sight?”

“Out of damp and gloomy days, out of solitude, out of loveless words directed at us, conclusions grow up in us like fungus: one morning they are there, we know not how, and they gaze upon us, morose and gray. Woe to the thinker who is not the gardener but only the soil of the plants that grow in him.”

“One would always want to think of oneself as being on the side of love, ready to recognize it and wish it well -but, when confronted with it in others, one so often resented it, questioned its true nature, secretly dismissed the particular instance as folly or promiscuity. Was it merely jealousy, or a reluctance to admit so noble and enviable a sentiment in anyone but oneself?”

“A bizarre sensation pervades a relationship of pretense. No truth seems true. A simple morning's greeting and response appear loaded with innuendo and fraught with implications. Each nicety becomes more sterile and each withdrawal more permanent.”