Every Text Assumes A Reader.

Evil Requires No Reason.

I Enjoyed Learning The Poems, But I Didn't Understand Of What Use They Might Possibly Be. ‘they'll Keep You Company On The Day You Have No Books To Read,' My Teacher Said.

I Know My Time Will Come Soon Enough, But I Will Not Dwell On It. What Is The Purpose? We Might As Well Dwell On The Work Of Our Teeth Or On The Mechanics Of Our Walk. It Is There, It Will Always Be There, And I Don't Intend To Spend My Glorious Hours Looking Over My Shoulder To See Death's Icy Face.

Nothing Moves Except My Eyes And My Hand Occasionally Turning A Page, And Yet Something Not Exactly Defined By The Word "text" Unfurls, Progresses, Grows And Takes Root As I Read. But How Does This Process Take Place?

I Quickly Learned That Reading Is Cumulative And Proceeds By Geometrical Progression: Each New Reading Builds Upon Whatever The Reader Has Read Before.