Violet Keppel Trefusis
@violetkeppelbot.bsky.social
Quotes from correspondence and writings of Violet (Keppel) Trefusis
21 March 1919
Are you going to stand by and watch me marry this man? It's unheard of, inconceivable. I belong to you, body and soul.
Are you going to stand by and watch me marry this man? It's unheard of, inconceivable. I belong to you, body and soul.
January 1, 2026 at 2:41 AM
21 March 1919
Are you going to stand by and watch me marry this man? It's unheard of, inconceivable. I belong to you, body and soul.
Are you going to stand by and watch me marry this man? It's unheard of, inconceivable. I belong to you, body and soul.
August 1920
I know how terribly alike we are in some ways – the most deplorable ways – but I have nothing but contempt for my shortcomings, and nothing but pity for yours.
I know how terribly alike we are in some ways – the most deplorable ways – but I have nothing but contempt for my shortcomings, and nothing but pity for yours.
December 31, 2025 at 10:41 PM
August 1920
I know how terribly alike we are in some ways – the most deplorable ways – but I have nothing but contempt for my shortcomings, and nothing but pity for yours.
I know how terribly alike we are in some ways – the most deplorable ways – but I have nothing but contempt for my shortcomings, and nothing but pity for yours.
March 1921
What a pity you are such a fool, Mitya.
What a pity you are such a fool, Mitya.
December 31, 2025 at 6:41 PM
March 1921
What a pity you are such a fool, Mitya.
What a pity you are such a fool, Mitya.
25 August 1918
My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams. . . . I want you, I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it.
My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams. . . . I want you, I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it.
December 31, 2025 at 2:40 PM
25 August 1918
My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams. . . . I want you, I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it.
My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams. . . . I want you, I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it.
March 1919
I try so hard to imagine your lips on mine. Never was there such a pitiful imagining.
I try so hard to imagine your lips on mine. Never was there such a pitiful imagining.
December 31, 2025 at 10:40 AM
March 1919
I try so hard to imagine your lips on mine. Never was there such a pitiful imagining.
I try so hard to imagine your lips on mine. Never was there such a pitiful imagining.
4 December 1910
Do try not to get married before I return.
Do try not to get married before I return.
December 31, 2025 at 6:42 AM
4 December 1910
Do try not to get married before I return.
Do try not to get married before I return.
21 September 1910
Thanks for an amusing letter. Allow me to felicitate my correspondent on her decision – worthy in every respect of a rapid and reliable intuition, which my susdite correspondante may well count among her proudest possessions.
Thanks for an amusing letter. Allow me to felicitate my correspondent on her decision – worthy in every respect of a rapid and reliable intuition, which my susdite correspondante may well count among her proudest possessions.
December 31, 2025 at 2:41 AM
21 September 1910
Thanks for an amusing letter. Allow me to felicitate my correspondent on her decision – worthy in every respect of a rapid and reliable intuition, which my susdite correspondante may well count among her proudest possessions.
Thanks for an amusing letter. Allow me to felicitate my correspondent on her decision – worthy in every respect of a rapid and reliable intuition, which my susdite correspondante may well count among her proudest possessions.
December 1920
You were so radiantly, so primitively beautiful, so free, so omnipotent, Dionysius, any woman would have willingly offered her life and her soul to satisfy the most fugitive of your caprices!
You were so radiantly, so primitively beautiful, so free, so omnipotent, Dionysius, any woman would have willingly offered her life and her soul to satisfy the most fugitive of your caprices!
December 30, 2025 at 10:41 PM
December 1920
You were so radiantly, so primitively beautiful, so free, so omnipotent, Dionysius, any woman would have willingly offered her life and her soul to satisfy the most fugitive of your caprices!
You were so radiantly, so primitively beautiful, so free, so omnipotent, Dionysius, any woman would have willingly offered her life and her soul to satisfy the most fugitive of your caprices!
2 July 1920
There is one thing I will never forgive you: that if you put any misconstruction on the motives which prompt this letter. I never thought I could be so brave as to write it, because each word I write is torture to me.
There is one thing I will never forgive you: that if you put any misconstruction on the motives which prompt this letter. I never thought I could be so brave as to write it, because each word I write is torture to me.
December 30, 2025 at 6:41 PM
2 July 1920
There is one thing I will never forgive you: that if you put any misconstruction on the motives which prompt this letter. I never thought I could be so brave as to write it, because each word I write is torture to me.
There is one thing I will never forgive you: that if you put any misconstruction on the motives which prompt this letter. I never thought I could be so brave as to write it, because each word I write is torture to me.
23 October 1910
Ah, I had not realized that the quiet sea (translating ‘me’ – Heavens, what presumption . . .) could become rough.
Ah, I had not realized that the quiet sea (translating ‘me’ – Heavens, what presumption . . .) could become rough.
December 30, 2025 at 2:41 PM
23 October 1910
Ah, I had not realized that the quiet sea (translating ‘me’ – Heavens, what presumption . . .) could become rough.
Ah, I had not realized that the quiet sea (translating ‘me’ – Heavens, what presumption . . .) could become rough.
22 September 1920
You may have a Spanish grandmother, but you have ‘le flegme brittanique’ for all that. O God, will you ever live? I remember and long for your beautiful stagnant face.
You may have a Spanish grandmother, but you have ‘le flegme brittanique’ for all that. O God, will you ever live? I remember and long for your beautiful stagnant face.
December 30, 2025 at 10:41 AM
22 September 1920
You may have a Spanish grandmother, but you have ‘le flegme brittanique’ for all that. O God, will you ever live? I remember and long for your beautiful stagnant face.
You may have a Spanish grandmother, but you have ‘le flegme brittanique’ for all that. O God, will you ever live? I remember and long for your beautiful stagnant face.
9 May 1919
Sometimes, before going to sleep, by dint of desiring you, I end by feeling your body stretched out by my side, all the warmth of quivering flesh, the kisses of your mouth, and the caresses of your fingers, and I feel faint, and I’m on the point of dying.
Sometimes, before going to sleep, by dint of desiring you, I end by feeling your body stretched out by my side, all the warmth of quivering flesh, the kisses of your mouth, and the caresses of your fingers, and I feel faint, and I’m on the point of dying.
December 30, 2025 at 6:41 AM
9 May 1919
Sometimes, before going to sleep, by dint of desiring you, I end by feeling your body stretched out by my side, all the warmth of quivering flesh, the kisses of your mouth, and the caresses of your fingers, and I feel faint, and I’m on the point of dying.
Sometimes, before going to sleep, by dint of desiring you, I end by feeling your body stretched out by my side, all the warmth of quivering flesh, the kisses of your mouth, and the caresses of your fingers, and I feel faint, and I’m on the point of dying.
5 November 1918
I want to come to you, my skin glowing – almost smarting! with health and cleanliness. Would that my mind and my soul could be equally clean!
I want to come to you, my skin glowing – almost smarting! with health and cleanliness. Would that my mind and my soul could be equally clean!
December 30, 2025 at 2:41 AM
5 November 1918
I want to come to you, my skin glowing – almost smarting! with health and cleanliness. Would that my mind and my soul could be equally clean!
I want to come to you, my skin glowing – almost smarting! with health and cleanliness. Would that my mind and my soul could be equally clean!
14 August 1918
Oh God! how I hate it all – you and I, Mitya, were born 2000 years too late, or 2000 years too soon.
Oh God! how I hate it all – you and I, Mitya, were born 2000 years too late, or 2000 years too soon.
December 29, 2025 at 10:41 PM
14 August 1918
Oh God! how I hate it all – you and I, Mitya, were born 2000 years too late, or 2000 years too soon.
Oh God! how I hate it all – you and I, Mitya, were born 2000 years too late, or 2000 years too soon.
3 March 1920
I am sitting in the shade of the olive groves on the top of the hill. I can’t begin to describe how lovely it is: there is a mosaic of wildflowers winding amongst the olive trees and peach blossom everywhere.
I am sitting in the shade of the olive groves on the top of the hill. I can’t begin to describe how lovely it is: there is a mosaic of wildflowers winding amongst the olive trees and peach blossom everywhere.
December 29, 2025 at 6:41 PM
3 March 1920
I am sitting in the shade of the olive groves on the top of the hill. I can’t begin to describe how lovely it is: there is a mosaic of wildflowers winding amongst the olive trees and peach blossom everywhere.
I am sitting in the shade of the olive groves on the top of the hill. I can’t begin to describe how lovely it is: there is a mosaic of wildflowers winding amongst the olive trees and peach blossom everywhere.
1 March 1920
Pat and Joan seem flawlessly happy to-gether. . . . I simply can’t tell you how I envy them – alone, independent, unmolested. O Mitya, why can’t we have a house together
Pat and Joan seem flawlessly happy to-gether. . . . I simply can’t tell you how I envy them – alone, independent, unmolested. O Mitya, why can’t we have a house together
December 29, 2025 at 2:41 PM
1 March 1920
Pat and Joan seem flawlessly happy to-gether. . . . I simply can’t tell you how I envy them – alone, independent, unmolested. O Mitya, why can’t we have a house together
Pat and Joan seem flawlessly happy to-gether. . . . I simply can’t tell you how I envy them – alone, independent, unmolested. O Mitya, why can’t we have a house together
1 May 1920
Mind you, I blame myself every bit as much as I blame you – and I blame our circumstances more than anything. It is impossible for any love to expand healthily under such circumstances – it must always become a shrivelled abortion.
Mind you, I blame myself every bit as much as I blame you – and I blame our circumstances more than anything. It is impossible for any love to expand healthily under such circumstances – it must always become a shrivelled abortion.
December 29, 2025 at 10:41 AM
1 May 1920
Mind you, I blame myself every bit as much as I blame you – and I blame our circumstances more than anything. It is impossible for any love to expand healthily under such circumstances – it must always become a shrivelled abortion.
Mind you, I blame myself every bit as much as I blame you – and I blame our circumstances more than anything. It is impossible for any love to expand healthily under such circumstances – it must always become a shrivelled abortion.
Ah, I had never seen you depart from that beautiful calm that you so carefully maintain in your relationship with me. But who do you take me for?
December 29, 2025 at 6:42 AM
Ah, I had never seen you depart from that beautiful calm that you so carefully maintain in your relationship with me. But who do you take me for?
16 September 1910
Yesterday a benignant fairy released me from a spell - oh yes! you may think! - which she cast upon me - or rather the part of me usually called one’s memory - in a fit of exasperation about 18 months ago.
Adiós
Yesterday a benignant fairy released me from a spell - oh yes! you may think! - which she cast upon me - or rather the part of me usually called one’s memory - in a fit of exasperation about 18 months ago.
Adiós
December 29, 2025 at 2:41 AM
16 September 1910
Yesterday a benignant fairy released me from a spell - oh yes! you may think! - which she cast upon me - or rather the part of me usually called one’s memory - in a fit of exasperation about 18 months ago.
Adiós
Yesterday a benignant fairy released me from a spell - oh yes! you may think! - which she cast upon me - or rather the part of me usually called one’s memory - in a fit of exasperation about 18 months ago.
Adiós
14 August 1918
I want to see you. I want to hear your voice. I want to put my hand on your shoulder and cry my heart out.
I want to see you. I want to hear your voice. I want to put my hand on your shoulder and cry my heart out.
December 28, 2025 at 10:41 PM
14 August 1918
I want to see you. I want to hear your voice. I want to put my hand on your shoulder and cry my heart out.
I want to see you. I want to hear your voice. I want to put my hand on your shoulder and cry my heart out.
5 June 1920
This is what one needs: the person one loves, the sun, freedom Everything else is entirely superfluous.
This is what one needs: the person one loves, the sun, freedom Everything else is entirely superfluous.
December 28, 2025 at 6:41 PM
5 June 1920
This is what one needs: the person one loves, the sun, freedom Everything else is entirely superfluous.
This is what one needs: the person one loves, the sun, freedom Everything else is entirely superfluous.
'perhaps, we must get you married.' Vica made a violent, inarticulate gesture.
December 28, 2025 at 2:41 PM
'perhaps, we must get you married.' Vica made a violent, inarticulate gesture.
For you, I would turn into Scheherazade, for you I would make up stories always stopped on the threshold.For you, I would vary a little each day, never quite the same, never completely different, like the woman in the sonnet, so that you would never feel too certain of me.
December 28, 2025 at 10:41 AM
For you, I would turn into Scheherazade, for you I would make up stories always stopped on the threshold.For you, I would vary a little each day, never quite the same, never completely different, like the woman in the sonnet, so that you would never feel too certain of me.
11 May 1920
What a dreadful thing is marriage. I think it is the wickedest thing in the universe. Think of the straight, clean lives it has ruined by forcing them to skulk and hide and intrigue and scheme, making love a thing to be hidden and lied about – as in our case.
What a dreadful thing is marriage. I think it is the wickedest thing in the universe. Think of the straight, clean lives it has ruined by forcing them to skulk and hide and intrigue and scheme, making love a thing to be hidden and lied about – as in our case.
December 28, 2025 at 6:41 AM
11 May 1920
What a dreadful thing is marriage. I think it is the wickedest thing in the universe. Think of the straight, clean lives it has ruined by forcing them to skulk and hide and intrigue and scheme, making love a thing to be hidden and lied about – as in our case.
What a dreadful thing is marriage. I think it is the wickedest thing in the universe. Think of the straight, clean lives it has ruined by forcing them to skulk and hide and intrigue and scheme, making love a thing to be hidden and lied about – as in our case.
25 August 1918
My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams. . . . I want you, I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it.
My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams. . . . I want you, I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it.
December 28, 2025 at 2:41 AM
25 August 1918
My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams. . . . I want you, I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it.
My days are consumed by this impotent longing for you, and my nights are riddled with insufferable dreams. . . . I want you, I want you hungrily, frenziedly, passionately. I am starving for you, if you must know it.