I Think I Want To Be In

Aeneas Carried His Aged Father On His Back From The Ruins Of Troy And So Do We All, Whether We Like It Or Not, Perhaps Even If We Have Never Known Them.

My Paternal Grandmother Would Not Light A Fire On The Sabbath And Piled All Sunday's Washing-up In A Bucket, To Be Dealt With On Monday Morning, Because The Sabbath Was A Day Of Rest--a Practice That Made My Paternal Grandfather, The Village Atheist, As Mad As Fire. Nevertheless, He Willed Five Quid To The Minister, Just To Be On The Safe Side.

Sad; So Sad, Those Smoky-rose, Smoky-mauve Evenings Of Late Autumn, Sad Enough To Pierce The Heart.

I Always Used To Suffer A Great Deal If I Let Myself Get Too Close To Reality Since The Definitive World Of The Everyday With Itshard Edges And Harsh Light Did Not Have Enough Resonance To Echo The Demands I Made Upon Experience. It Was As If I Never Experienced Experience As Experience. Living Never Lived Up To The Expectations I Had Of It--the Bovary Syndrome.

One Beast And Only One Howls In The Woods By Night.