I Worshipped Dead Men For Their Strength,

There Is Something Intrinsically Wrong About Letters. For One Thing They Are Not Instantaneous. ... Nor Is This The Only Trouble About Letters. They Do Not Arrive Often Enough. A Letter Which Has Been Passionately Awaited Should Be Immediately Supplemented By Another One, To Counteract The Feeling Of Flatness That Comes Upon Us When The Agonizing Delights Of Anticipation Have Been Replaced By The Colder Flood Of Fulfilment.

Tools Have Their Own Integrity.

Click, Clack, Click, Clack, Went Their Conversation, Like So Many Knitting-needles, Purl, Plain, Purl, Plain, Achieving A Complex Pattern Of References, Cross-references, Christian Names, Nicknames, And Fleeting Allusions.

It Is Dreadful How I Miss You, And Everything That Everybody Says Seems Flat And Stupid.

Things Were Not Tragic For Us Then, Because Although We Cared Passionately We Didn't Care Deeply.