Good Writing Is Always New.

In My Mind's Eye Shakespeare Is A Huge, Hot Sea-beast, With Fire In His Veins And Ice On His Claws And Inscrutable Eyes, Who Looks Like An Inchoate Hump Under The Encrustations Of Live Barnacle-commentaries, Limpets And Trailing Weeds.

Don't You Find It Rather Heavy, To Have Everything Really In Front Of You – All The People Who Are Going To Matter, Whom You Haven't Met Yet, All The Choices You Are Going To Have To Make, Everything You Might Achieve, And All The Possible Failures – Unreal Now? The Future Flaps Round My Head Like A Cloud Of Midges.

Everything Is Surprising, Rightly Seen.

The Minds Of Stone Lovers Had Colonised Stones As Lichens Clung To Them With Golden Or Grey-green Florid Stains. The Human World Of Stones Is Caught In Organic Metaphors Like Flies In Amber. Words Came From Flesh And Hair And Plants. Reniform, Mammilated, Botryoidal, Dendrite, Haematite. Carnelian Is From Carnal, From Flesh. Serpentine And Lizardite Are Stone Reptiles ; Phyllite Is Leafy-green.

Good Writing Is Always New.