11 Elk Hounds Behind Me

“For if it is rash to walk into a lion’s den unarmed, rash to navigate the Atlantic in a rowing boat, rash to stand on one foot on the top of St. Paul’s, it is still more rash to go home alone with a poet. A poet is Atlantic and lion in one. While one drowns us the other gnaws us. If we survive the teeth, we succumb to the waves. A man who can destroy illusions is both beast and flood. Illusions are to the soul what atmosphere is to the earth. Roll up that tender air and the plant dies, the colour fades. The earth we walk on is a parched cinder. It is marl we tread and fiery cobbles scorch our feet. By the truth we are undone. Life is a dream. ‘Tis waking that kills us. He who robs us of our dreams robs us of our life? (and so on for six pages if you will, but the style is tedious and may well be dropped).” From ‘Orlando: A Biography’ (1928), by Virginia Woolf “Long Barn 16 September I dreamed last night that you and Leonard had never been really married, and that you decided it was high time to hold the ceremony. So you had a fashionable wedding. You were dressed in a robe of mediaeval cut, made of cloth-of-gold, and you wore a long veil, and had an escort of bridesmaids and pages. You did not invite me to the wedding. So I stood in the crowd, and saw you pass on Leonard’s arm. For some reason or reasons (not far to seek) this dream made me extremely miserable, and I woke in tears, and have not yet thrown off the effect of it. […] “Will I ever see you again? I have a great and urgent craving to. But you seem very remote. […] At any rate, all sorts of different landscapes seem to open, whichever way I look, not just the vista of a dinner table with gentlemen in gold-braided uniform and ladies in low dresses. Oh Christ, how much I always want to see you when life becomes exciting. Your Orlando The fact that I don’t see you prevents these from being (some of) the happiest days of my life.” From Vita Sackville-West to Virginia Woolf (1929)