My Yesterdays Walk With Me. They Keep

Malcolm Bradbury Made The Point, And I Don't Know Whether It's A Valid One Or Not, That The Real English At The Moment Is Not The English Spoken In England Or In America Or Even In Canada Or Australia Or New Zealand. The Real English Is The English Which Is A Second Language, So That It's Rather Like Latin In The Days Of The Roman Empire When People Had Their Own Languages, But Had Latin In Order To Communicate.

I Have A Confession To Make. The Love Affair Of My Life Has Been With The Greek Language. I Have Now Reached The Age When It Has Occurred To Me That I May Have Read Some Books For The Last Time. I Suddenly Thought That There Are Books I Cannot Bear Not To Read Again Before I Die. One That Stands Out A Mile Is Homer's Iliad.

For A Small Island, The Place Is Remarkably Diverse. Writers Tend To See Things From Their Own Points Of View, Looking In One Direction Very Much.

The World, That Understandable And Lawful World, Was Slipping Away.

Philosophy And Religion-what Are They When The Wind Blows And The Water Gets Up In Lumps?