What Was Past Was Past. I Suppose

Africa Has No Future.

How Could People Like These, Without Words To Put To Their Emotions And Passions, Manage? They Could, At Best, Only Suffer Dumbly. Their Pains And Humiliations Would Work Themselves Out In Their Characters Alone: Like Evil Spirits Possessing A Body, So That The Body Itself Might Appear Innocent Of What It Did.

Some Lesser Husbands Built A Latrine On The Hillside.

All Cultures Have Been Mingled Forever.

Each Book, Intuitively Sensed And, In The Case Of Fiction, Intuitively Worked Out, Stands On What Has Gone Before, And Grows Out Of It.