Honestly, I Haven't The Time To Read

Towards Midnight The Rain Ceased And The Clouds Drifted Away, So That The Sky Was Scattered Once More With The Incredible Lamps Of Stars.

I Have A Confession To Make. The Love Affair Of My Life Has Been With The Greek Language. I Have Now Reached The Age When It Has Occurred To Me That I May Have Read Some Books For The Last Time. I Suddenly Thought That There Are Books I Cannot Bear Not To Read Again Before I Die. One That Stands Out A Mile Is Homer's Iliad.

Maybe Half A Dozen Think They Are A Community, But, In General Terms, I Think English Writers Tend To Face Outwards, Away From Each Other, And Write In Their Own Patch, As It Were.

Language Fits Over Experience Like A Straight-jacket.

Don't Get Me Wrong. I Have Nothing Against This As A Method, But It Is Not What English Writers Do.