Arguing With A Dead Man In A

That Love Which Does Not Build A Foundation On Good Sense Is Doomed.

By Concentrating On What Is Good In People, By Appealing To Their Idealism And Their Sense Of Justice, And By Asking Them To Put Their Faith In The Future, Socialists Put Themselves At A Severe Disadvantage.

What Idiocy, To Racing Into This Story And Its Labyrinths, Sprinting Away From Our Happiness Among The Fresh Spring Grasses By The Oak.

I Watched Our Friends' Wary, Intelligent Faces Droop At Our Tale. Their Shock Was A Mere Shadow Of Our Own, Resembling More The Goodwilled Imitation Of That Emotion, And For This Reason It Was A Temptation To Exaggerate, To Throw A Rope Of Superlatives Across The Abyss That Divided Experience From Its Representation By Anecdote.

There Was, In My View, An Unwritten Contract With The Reader That The Writer Must Honour. No Single Element Of An Imagined World Or Any Of Its Characters Should Be Allowed To Dissolve On An Authorial Whim. The Invented Had To Be As Solid And As Self-consistent As The Actual. This Was A Contract Founded On Mutual Trust.