Life's Not Fair; Why Should I Be?

As All Historians Know, The Past Is A Great Darkness, And Filled With Echoes. Voices May Reach Us From It; But What They Say To Us Is Imbued With The Obscurity Of The Matrix Out Of Which They Come; And Try As We May, We Cannot Always Decipher Them Precisely In The Clearer Light Of Our Day.

Why Are We Designed To See The World As Supremely Beautiful Just As We're About To Be Snuffed? Do Rabbits Feel The Same As The Fox Teeth Bite Down On Their Necks? Is It Mercy?

I Didn't Much Like It, This Grudge-holding Against The Past.

Victorian Literature Was My Subject At Harvard.

All I Can Hope For Is A Reconstruction: The Way Love Feels Is Always Only Approximate.