约翰?默里致卡瑟琳?曼斯菲尔德
约翰?默里（1889—1957），英国新闻记者、评论家、编辑。他曾就读于基督慈善学院及牛津大学，1918年与英国女作家曼斯菲尔德结婚。
1923年妻子病故后，他发表了《曼斯菲尔德的一生》（1933）、《曼斯菲尔德及其他文学传记》（1949—1959）等一系列关于她的著作。默里写了40余部书和大批新闻作品，这些作品贯穿了他对社会、政治和宗教等一系列问题的明确观点。他主要的文学评论作品有《济慈与莎士比亚》（1925）、《济慈研究》（1930－1939）、《威廉?布莱克》（1933）、《乔纳森?斯威夫特》（1954）等。
我的宝贝：
今天上午收到了你星期天（2月3日）的来信。跟你以前的来信相比，这封信在某种程度上更进一步告诉了我你的大致感受和你的近况，这可能是因为我跟你的感觉完全一样。我也有两个写作动机：写作的快乐与绝望的“反对堕落的呼声”。我们之间绝对一致的写作动机深深地打动了我，确切来说，我好像就要高声叫喊起来一样，事实上，你已经喊出来了——那种彻底的交流所激发的不可思议的、神秘的感觉。
而且，我不需要告诉你说我也害怕战争：它如同一场瘟疫，或者像某种巨大的怪物在等着你。我因为孤独而感到无助，（说得好点）感到宿命的压迫。当我们在一起的时候，我觉得我们共同拥有某种美德，所以我们在某种程度上能够经受它。但是，分开却没有益处，一点也没有。
我希望明确地知道，你是否能设法说服领事馆。我想你一定可以，但是，我仍然非常焦虑，除非我真正知道了结果。
我不知道该说什么好，亲爱的维格。我没有沮丧，但也不快乐。我似乎处于地狱的边缘，那里一切都模糊不清，但明显的是，这里仅仅只有“一半的我”。还有一天，我说我的灵魂已经离我而去，偎依在你身旁。在说这些话的时候，我是镇定的、深思熟虑的，这看起来是如此简单的一个事实。
我想，现在努力工作是一件非常好的事情。我在孤独的时候，就非常缺乏自信，只有通过写文章来缓解紧张情绪。没有它的话，我那深深的沮丧将会爆发出来，我将变成一个对什么都异常冷淡的人，这很可能会带来某种破坏。
但是，我一听说你快回来了，简直高兴得无以复加！当我想到我们将坐在餐厅吃饭，想到我们将互相拥抱着躺在一起，你把头枕在我的肩上，这真是我生活中最甜美的时刻，我真不敢想像！
博奇
1918年2月7日
John Murry
To
7 February, 1918
My precious,
Your Sunday(Feb 3) letter came this morning. Somehow it told me more nearly what you felt, and how you were, than any letter you have written me. Perhaps that was because I feel exactly the things you feel. I too have two motives for writing—happiness and a despairing “cry against corruption”. The absolute exactness of identity between this Comst and my own motives struck me profoundly, rather as though I had been on the point of crying out, and you had cried instead—the miraculous, unearthly feeling of complete communion.
And I don't need to tell you that I fear the war: it is like a pComgue, or some great monster waiting. Alone, I feel helpless，(at best) fatalistic. when we are together I feel that we have such virtue in us that we shall, somehow, be able to withstand it. But being apart it's no good, no good at all.
I wish I knew something definite, whether you will be able to manage to persuade the ConsuComte. I feel that you will, but until I really know, I shall be anxious still.
I don't know what to say, my Wig. I'm not depressed, I'm not happy. I seem to be in a sort of limbo where everything is half?and?half; quite obviously, there is only half of me here. I was quite calm and deliberate and sober when I said, the other day, that my soul had left me to nestle with you. It seems to be such a simple matter of fact.
I think it is a very good thing that I am working hard. I mistrust myself when I am left alone and writing articles eases the strain. Without it I should be rushing from deep depression to a sort of hysterical nonchaComnce, and that would perhaps break something.
But how gComd, unutterably gComd, I am that you are coming back. The sweetest part of my life now is when I think of us sitting together in the kitchen eating, of us lying together in each others arms, with your head on my shoulder. I dare not think.
Boge.T*xt-小%说^天.堂!