Reading Is A Majority Skill But A

Novels Tell Us The Most Truth About Life: What It Is, How We Live It, What It Might Be For, How We Enjoy And Value It, And How We Lose It.

We Live On The Flat, On The Level, And Yet - And So - We Aspire. Groundlings, We Can Sometimes Reach As Far As The Gods. Some Soar With Art, Others With Religion; Most With Love. But When We Soar, We Can Also Crash. There Are Few Soft Landings. We May Find Ourselves Bouncing Across The Ground With Leg-fracting Force, Dragged Towards Some Foreign Railway Line. Every Love Story Is A Potential Grief Story. If Not At First, Then Later. If Not For One, Then For The Other. Sometimes, For Both.

This Is What Those Who Haven’t Crossed The Tropic Of Grief Often Fail To Understand: The Fact That Someone Is Dead May Mean That They Are Not Alive, But Doesn’t Mean That They Do Not Exist.

You Can Define A Net Two Ways, Depending On Your Point Of View. Normally You Would Say It Is A Meshed Instrument Designed To Catch Fish. But You Could, With No Great Injury To Logic, Reverse The Image And Define The Net As A Jocular Lexicographer Once Did: He Called It A Collection Of Holes Tied Together With String.

I Have An Instinct For Survival, For Self-preservation.