I'm Sixty-two, And It's Ecological Sense To

I Look Upon Another's Insistence On The Merits Of His Or Her Life - Duties, Intellect, Accomplishment - And See That Most Of It Is Nonsense.

Memory, So Complete And Clear Or So Evasive, Has To Be Ended, Has To Be Put Aside, As If One Were Leaving A Chapel And Bringing The Prayer To An End In One's Head.

It Is Death That Goes Down To The Center Of The Earth, The Great Burial Church The Earth Is, And Then To The Curved Ends Of The Universe, As Light Is Said To Do

I Have Thousands Of Opinions Still - But That Is Down From Millions - And, As Always, I Know Nothing.

If You Like To Read, Sometimes It's Interesting Just To Go And See What The Reality Is, Of The Word, Of The Seedy Or Not So Seedy Fiction Writer, The Drunk Or Sober Poet... Sometimes You Can Go Looking For Illumination.