Sarcasm Is The Protest Of The Weak.

Everyone Has A Moment In History Which Belongs Particularly To Him.

But Something Held Me Back. Perhaps I Was Stopped By That Level Of Feeling, Deeper Than Thought, Which Contains The Truth.

Nothing Endures. Not A Tree. Not Love. Not Even Death By Violence.

Exeter Was, I Suspect, More Crucial In My Life Than In The Lives Of Most Members Of My Class, And Conceivably, Than In The Lives Of Almost Anyone Else Who Ever Attended The School.

So The More Things Remained The Same, The More They Changed After All. Nothing Endures. Not Love, Not A Tree, Not Even A Death By Violence.