something i found while doing research on Mary Wollstonecraft..
an extract from one of William Godwin's many letters to her, dated 13th July 1796:
"Now, I take all my Gods to witness - do you know how many they are? - but I obtest & obsecrate them all - that your company infinitely delights me, that I love your imagination, your delicate epicurism, the malicious leer of your eye, in short every thing that constitutes the bewitching tout ensemble of the celebrated Mary. But to write!
Alas, I have no talent, for I have no subject. Shall I write a love letter? May Lucifer fly away with me, if I do! No, when I make love, it shall be with the eloquent tones of my voice, with dying accents, with speaking glances (through the glass of my spectacles), with all the witching of that irresistable, universal passion. Curse on the mechanical, icy medium of pen & paper. When I make love, it shall be in a storm, as Jupiter made love to Semele, & turned her at once to a cinder. Do not these menaces terrify you?
Well then, what shall be my subject? Shall I send you an eulogium of your beauty, your talents & your virtues? Ah! that is an old subject: beside, if I were to begin, instead of a sheet of paper, I should want a ream."
did your heart not beat like mine as you read it?
an extract from one of William Godwin's many letters to her, dated 13th July 1796:
"Now, I take all my Gods to witness - do you know how many they are? - but I obtest & obsecrate them all - that your company infinitely delights me, that I love your imagination, your delicate epicurism, the malicious leer of your eye, in short every thing that constitutes the bewitching tout ensemble of the celebrated Mary. But to write!
Alas, I have no talent, for I have no subject. Shall I write a love letter? May Lucifer fly away with me, if I do! No, when I make love, it shall be with the eloquent tones of my voice, with dying accents, with speaking glances (through the glass of my spectacles), with all the witching of that irresistable, universal passion. Curse on the mechanical, icy medium of pen & paper. When I make love, it shall be in a storm, as Jupiter made love to Semele, & turned her at once to a cinder. Do not these menaces terrify you?
Well then, what shall be my subject? Shall I send you an eulogium of your beauty, your talents & your virtues? Ah! that is an old subject: beside, if I were to begin, instead of a sheet of paper, I should want a ream."
did your heart not beat like mine as you read it?
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