The Summer Of 1943 At Exeter Was

So The More Things Remain The Same, The More They Change After All.

It Was Hard To Remember In The Heavy And Sensual Clarity Of These Mornings; I Forgot Whom I Hated And Who Hated Me. I Wanted To Break Out Crying From Stabs Of Hopeless Joy, Or Intolerable Promise, Or Because These Mornings Were Too Full Of Beauty For Me, Because I Knew Of Too Much Hate To Be Contained In A World Like This.

All Of Them, All Except Phineas, Constructed At Infinite Cost To Themselves These Maginot Lines Against This Enemy They Thought They Saw Across The Frontier, This Enemy Who Never Attacked That Way-if He Ever Attacked At All; If He Was Indeed The Enemy.

Never Say You Are Five Feet Nine When You Are Five Feet Eight And A Half" Was The First One I Encountered. Another Was, "always Say Some Prayers At Night Because It Might Turn Out That There Is A God.

But Something Held Me Back. Perhaps I Was Stopped By That Level Of Feeling, Deeper Than Thought, Which Contains The Truth.