How, Unless You Drink As I Do,

What Is Man But A Little Soul Holding Up A Corpse?

For A Time They Confronted Each Other Like Two Mute Unspeaking Forts.

Perhaps His Tragedy Is That He Is The One Normal Writer Left On Earth And It Is This That Adds To His Isolation And So To His Sense Of Guilt.

Good God, If Our Civilization Were To Sober Up For A Couple Of Days It'd Die Of Remorse On The Third.

I Like Prefaces. I Read Them. Sometimes I Do Not Read Any Further.