Skip to main content

#1399: Willa Cather to Yaltah Menuhin, February 20 [1938]

More about this letter…
Plain view:

Guide to Reading Letter Transcriptions

Some of these features are only visible when "plain text" is off.

Textual Feature Appearance
passage deleted with a strikethrough mark deleted passage
passage deleted by overwritten added letters overwritten passage
passage added above the line passage with added text above
passage added on the line passage with added text inline
passage added in the margin passage with text added in margin
handwritten addition to a typewritten letter typed passage with added handwritten text
missing or unreadable text missing text noted with "[illegible]"
uncertain transcriptions word[?]
notes written by someone other than Willa Cather Note in another's hand
printed letterhead text printed text
text printed on postcards, envelopes, etc. printed text
text of date and place stamps stamped text
passage written by Cather on separate enclosure. written text
My Darling Yaltah1;

After I saw you on Friday one hundred things came down upon me, so that I could not even get a little note off to the boat3. But my thoughts went with you a long way out to sea. I wanted to thank you for the verse you sent me, especially for the resume at the end—the seven lines 2 which gather the uncertainty up unto into something definite. The French poets rather overdo the interrogative forms, so beware of them a little. Questions do create a mood, but always a subjective mood. And out of questions I like some answer should come, as in your seven concluding lines. Doubts are never so appealing (to me) as one bright image, or even one grave image, such as you made in the verses about the mountain cross which you gave Edith4.

I’ve not been out for a single walk, dear! Not one! The weather has been one f long rain—no sun. So I have been working at my desk. The weather in my new story5 is more agreeable than that outside.

4

Please tell Yehudi6 that I had a plump orange from his little tree for lunch yesterday. It had grown so heavy the branch was breaking. It was fresh and very juicy (not at all dry or pithy) but sour, Oh SOUR!! A lemon was but a sugar-plum compared to it!

In haste to catch the fast boat, dear.

Your loving Aunt Willa

All the fast boats are on "cruises" now!

For Yaltah1