...what Will We Someday Do, I Always

...history It Seemed Could Be Something Entirely Different A Splash Of Blood Whose Agony Didn't Fade Overnight Or Over Centuries.

It Was Not The Brutality Of What Occurred Next That Changed My Mind And Brought Home To Me The Full Meaning Of Fear. It Was The Brilliance Of It.

The Thing That Most Haunted Me That Day, However...was The Fact That These Things Had - Apparently - Actually Occurred...for All His Attention To My Historical Education, My Father Had Neglected To Tell Me This: History's Terrible Moments Were Real. I Understand Now, Decades Later, That He Could Never Have Told Me. Only History Itself Can Convince You Of Such A Truth. And Once You've Seen That Truth - Really Seen It - You Can't Look Away.

...what Will We Someday Do, I Always Wonder, Without The Pleasures Of Turning Through Books And Stumbling On Things We Never Meant To Find?

I Keep Telling Myself I Should Try Very Hard To Write A Novel Of About 210 Pages... I Don't Seem To Be Capable Of It, But I Keep Hoping It Will Happen.