Yes, I am glad you miss me, even if it is ‘damned unpleasant’. I thought from your first letter than you didn’t miss me at all, and was sad about it. Now I am all pleased again. Selfish, isn’t one? But I go through it too, you know,—this missing you, and wanting you,—so that I know exactly how damned unpleasant it is, and probably even better than you do.
—Vita Sackville-West, from a letter to Virginia Woolf dated 23 February 1927 (via violentwavesofemotion)
“I think of you often. Especially in the evenings, when I am on the balcony and it’s too dark to write or to do anything but wait for the stars. A time I love. One feels half disembodied, sitting like a shadow at the door of one’s being while the dark tide rises. Then comes the moon, marvelously serene, and some stars, very merry for some reason of their own. It is so easy to forget, in a wordly life, to attend to these miracles. But no matter. They are waiting when one returns.”
—Katherine Mansfield, Selected Letters