We came down here yesterday， after 10 days of fog in London. You see how delicately I tell you the news of the metropolis： were you picking roses and walking about under a Parasol all the time！ Here we saw the sun for the first time—at any rate what was left of the sun， as it was just setting. However it rose all right this morning， as healthy as possible.
It is the loveliest place. When you want to build another cottage， build one here. We have Beech trees practically poking their heads in at the front door—at least Adrian says he can smell them in the drawing room， and Forest ponies come when you call them—and Thoby saw a cow chasing a Fox in a field last night in the moonlight. This morning— I don't know that the fox has anything to do with it—he shaved off his moustache—in the hope of looking more like a lawyer. Nessa and I have hired bicycles： my front wheel went off like a pistol this afternoon， and has a great gash in its side. I don't know why I have written such a long letter when you didn't really particularly want it， but there are no books， and when I see a pen and ink， I can't help taking to it， as some people do to gin.
Yours affectionately，
A.V.S
22nd Dec.， 1904
Please say what you don't dare to say！
亲爱的奈莉：
我早就想为你的来信而向你表示感谢，它是我收到的第一封对我的文学作品发表看法的信，因此我非常高兴！你想不到作家是一种何等爱慕虚荣的动物——不过妮莎会告诉你的。我想艺术家不会像作家那样强烈地受到虚荣的**，因为，所有他或她的创作都是公开进行的，因此总是遭受到批评；然而，可怜的作家们遭遇的就是另外一种情形了，他们把自己的思想都藏匿在大脑黑暗的角落里，当这些思想被印刷成文字的时候，他们看上去是那样的**颤抖、战战兢兢。因此，对于作家来说，有人喜欢他的作品就是一种很大的鼓舞。这并非说评论文章值得赞扬，我想，写评论肯定是一件十分乏味的事。我憎恨对人妄加批评的态度，因为我知道自己一直在说些骗人的空话。扪心自问，如果我自己都做不好，我又有什么权利来断定何谓好坏！