Tag Archives: birthday

Long life to our friendship, and that means, I do most firmly believe, to these clay continents on which we fly our colours!

Posted on June 19, 2016 by mafalda

[Dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and criticaledition of this letter, see Mehew 5, 1330.] To W.E. Henley [Colvin 1912, pp. 198-199] Bonaille Towers, Bournemouth, 14 November 1884. My dear boy, A thousand … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged appearance, Argan, Arysule, bawler, birthday, Bob, Bonaille Towers, Bournemouth, brawler, carcase, clay, colours, commission, Comtesse d'Escarbagnas, continents, corns, difference, dungeon, embellishing, embittered, Femmes Savantes, fortune, frienship, green, happiness, health, heels, Henley, hunchback, infirmary, influence, Jim Hawkins, John Silver's pistol, jovial, kindness, liberty, light-hearted, Malade Imaginaire, mercies, miracle, Molière, monarch, mother, nature, octogenarian, paddock, Pall Mall Gazette, pebble, pit, plate, political, Poquelin, presents, radiant, recognition, Robert Louis Stevenson, royal, seraph, shoe, shoemaker, sick, situation, smiles, sot, stigmatised, success, sweetness, tale, thankful, treader, waltzing, white hair, work | Leave a comment

As for my wife, that was the best investment ever made by man

Posted on January 19, 2016 by mafalda

[As usual, dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 4, 1181.] To his mother [Colvin 1911, 2, pp. 181-182] La Solitude, Hyères [November 1883] My dear … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged adding, afternoon, article, £, binders, birthday, Bogue, busy, cold, cutting, delaying, family, Fanny, father, healtr, Henley, Hyères, investment, jingling-tingling, jolly, Lang, Magazine of Art, marriage, money, mother, nuisances, Odyssey, penniless, postie, Prince Otto, proofs, publisher, puff, rain, rewriting, Robert Louis Stevenson, Romance, Silverado Squatters, Tom Sawyer, travellers, Treasure Island, wife, Wogg, work | Leave a comment

Thirty-two years now finished!

Posted on August 30, 2015 by mafalda

[Dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 4, 1012.] To his Mother [Colvin 1911, 2, p. 110] Campagne Defli, St. Marcel, Banlieue de Marseille, November 13, … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged banlieu, bed, birthday, bleak, Campagne Defli, child, circumstances, comfort, Cummy, disregard, energy, exhaust, Fanny, father, gate, guilty, idleness, luxury, Margaret Isabella Stevenson, Marseille, miserable, mother, newspapers, notes, orders, outside, parsimony, Patience, pleasant, Prestonpans, Robert Louis Stevenson, San Francisco, sickly, split, St. Marcel, Summer, thirty-two, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, Wogg, wood-cutting, work | Leave a comment

Does it not seem as if things were fluid?

Posted on March 24, 2014 by mafalda

[Dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sir Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 1, 168]. To his mother [Colvin 1911, pp. 96-98] Hôtel du Pavillon, Menton, November 13, 1873. My dear … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged birthday, bone caves, Cap Martin, chapel, Chateau des Morts, cold, feet, fluid, fort, Francis Bacon, Freeman, gardens, Gorbio, Grimaldi, head, hearts, hills, Hotel de Londres, Hotel du Pavillon, invalids, jetty, kiosque, lemons, Lord Chancellor, memory, Menton, mother, newspapers, Nice, omnibus, oranges, Pascal Amarante, Pharmacie Gros, Post Office, Poste Restante, Prince's Palace, Prince's Villa, promenade, Robert Louis Stevenson, sanatorium, sea, torrents, train, trees, Turin Road, viaduct, villas | Leave a comment

I am driven forward by restlessness

Posted on March 22, 2014 by mafalda

On the advice of the Lord Advocate it has been agreed that RLS will present himself for admission as a student at one of the London Inns of Court and come to town after the middle of October, 1873, to … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged angels, Avignon, belle humeur, bells, birthday, blind poet, boots, bugle, Carpentras, Chateaubriand, Christ, cross, dancing, drums, Fanny Sitwell, fire, France, French, gardens, happy, health, hills, hotel, hot_water, lanterns, laughable, La_Muette_de_Portici, lemons, letters, Mentone, music, musician, noises, odours, olive-yard, Orange, oranges, peak, pleasure, Pont_d'Avignon, Provençality, restlessness, Rhone, Robert Louis Stevenson, Sainte-Beuve, Sens, singing, sky, snow, southerness, station, sun, sunshine, theatre, travelling, velvet, voices, writing | Leave a comment

Tag Archives: birthday

Long life to our friendship, and that means, I do most firmly believe, to these clay continents on which we fly our colours!

Rate this:

As for my wife, that was the best investment ever made by man

Rate this:

Thirty-two years now finished!

Rate this:

Does it not seem as if things were fluid?

Rate this:

I am driven forward by restlessness

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