This Is The Way The World Ends,

Turning Wearily, As One Would Turn To Nod Goodbye To Rochefoucauld, If The Street Were Time And He As The End Of The Street.

I Am An Anglo-catholic In Religion, A Classicist In Literature And A Royalist In Politics.

Dayodhuam: I Have Heard The Key Turn In The Door Once And Turn Once Only We Think Of The Key, Each In His Prison Thinking Of The Key, Each Confirms A Prison.

The Circle Of Our Understanding Is A Very Restricted Area.

We Have All Our Private Terrors, Our Particular Shadows, Our Secret Fears. We Are Afraid In A Fear Which We Cannot Face, Which None Understands, And Our Hearts Are Torn From Us, Our Brains Unskinned Like The Layers Of An Onion, Ourselves The Last.