Walt Whitman, He Who Laid End To

It Was Adam Appleby's Misfortune That At The Moment Of Awakening From Sleep His Consciousness Was Immediately Flooded With Everything He Least Wanted To Think About

Language Is The Net That Holds Thought Trapped Within A Particular Culture. But If One Could Only Strike The Ball With Sufficient Force, With Perfect Timing, It Would Perhaps Break Through The Netting, Continue On Its Course, Never Fall To Earth, But Go Into Orbit Around The World.

It's The Only Thing That Keeps Me Going These Days, Travelling. Changes Of Scene, Changes Of Faces

Whhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! The Scream Of Jet Engines Rises To A Crescendo On The Runways Of The World. Every Second, Somewhere Or Other, A Plane Touches Down, With A Puff Of Smoke From Scorched Tyre Rubber, Or Rises In The Air, Leaving A Smear Of Black Fumes Dissolving In Its Wake. From Space, The Earth Might Look To A Fanciful Eye Like A Huge Carousel, With Planes Instead Of Horses Spinning Round Its Circumference, Up And Down, Up And Down. Whhheeeeeeeeeee!

Walt Whitman, He Who Laid End To End Words Never Seen In Each Other's Company Before Outside Of A Dictionary.