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Max JACOB (1876-1944). L.A.S., Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire January 21, 1940, to poet Paul Dermée; 1page in-4. "I must have written to you a dozen times for a dozen books and told you each time a very real admiration... You know your merits better than I do or as well. Besides, I don't know how to write to poets anymore... It's either good or it's not good... You're obviously good... if only because your language is so well placed, your imagination is unlimited and even more so. I particularly like Judgment Bay, that paradise for old boats. You could have turned it into a long story in the style of Coleridge's Old Sailor. What a pity! I also particularly liked the Feuilleton. I'm a bit tired of poetry with a pen in my hand, but my friends' poetry rejuvenates me, especially yours. [...] Are there Sunday poets like there are Sunday painters (the latter were the best in the twentieth century)."
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Max JACOB (1876-1944). L.A.S., Saint-Benoît-sur-Loire January 21, 1940, to poet Paul Dermée; 1page in-4. "I must have written to you a dozen times for a dozen books and told you each time a very real admiration... You know your merits better than I do or as well. Besides, I don't know how to write to poets anymore... It's either good or it's not good... You're obviously good... if only because your language is so well placed, your imagination is unlimited and even more so. I particularly like Judgment Bay, that paradise for old boats. You could have turned it into a long story in the style of Coleridge's Old Sailor. What a pity! I also particularly liked the Feuilleton. I'm a bit tired of poetry with a pen in my hand, but my friends' poetry rejuvenates me, especially yours. [...] Are there Sunday poets like there are Sunday painters (the latter were the best in the twentieth century)."
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