There Seemed Nothing To Do But Live.

Unimaginable Perhaps; But The Unimaginable Is There To Be Imagined.

It’s Admirable, What You Do, What She Does, But To Me Animal-welfare People Are A Bit Like Christians Of A Certain Kind. Everyone Is So Cheerful And Well-intentioned That After A While You Itch To Go Off And Do Some Raping And Pillaging. Or To Kick A Cat.

You Are Going To End Up As One Of Those Sad Old Men Who Poke Around In Rubbish Bins.” “i’m Going To End Up In A Hole In The Ground... And So Are You. So Are We All.

Truth Is Not Spoken In Anger. Truth Is Spoken, If It Ever Comes To Be Spoken, In Love. The Gaze Of Love Is Not Deluded. It Sees What Is Best In The Beloved Even When What Is Best In The Beloved Finds It Hard To Emerge Into The Light.

But The Truth, He Knows, Is Otherwise. His Pleasure In Living Has Been Snuffed Out. Like A Leaf On A Stream, Like A Puffball On A Breeze, He Has Begun To Float Towards His End. He Sees It Quite Clearly, And It Fills Him With (the Word Will Not Go Away) Despair. The Blood Of Life Is Leaving His Body And Despair Is Taking Its Place, Despair That Is Like A Gas, Odourless, Tasteless, Without Nourishment. You Breathe It In, Your Limbs Relax, You Cease To Care, Even At The Moment When The Steel Touches Your Throat.