You’ll come with me, my little man,’ Sylvia said, ‘if you ever want to bask in my smile again.… - Ford Madox Ford

You may well ask why I write. And yet my reasons are quite many. For it is not unusual in human beings who have witnessed the sack of a city or the falling to pieces of a people to set down what they have witnessed for the benefit of unknown heirs or of generations infinitely remote; or, if you please, just to get the sight out of their heads.

You have to wait together - for a week, for a year, for a lifetime, before the final intimate conversation may be attained ... and exhausted. So that ... That in effect was love.

Being correspondent of a Left paper with a name like Eisenstein deprived one of one’s chance of usefulness.