I'm Very Militant, You Know,

For A Few Minutes, Maybe, Life Lingers In The Tissues Of Some Outlying Regions Of The Body. Then, One By One, The Lights Go Out And There Is Total Blackness. And Ifsome Part Of The Non—entity We Called George Has Indeed Been Absent At This Moment Of Terminal Shock, Away Out There On The Deep Water, Then It Will Return To Find Itself Homeless.

I Am A Camera With Its Shutter Open, Quite Passive, Recording, Not Thinking.

But Your Book Is Wrong, Mrs. Strunk, Says George, When It Tells You That Jim Is The Substitute I Found For A Real Son, A Real Kid Brother, A Real Husband, A Real Wife. Jim Wasn't A Substitute For Anything. And There Is No Substitute For Jim, If You'll Forgive My Saying So, Anywhere.

Bad Writing Is Bad Not Just Because The Language Is Humdrum, But The Quality Of The Observation Is So Poor.

What It Sees There Isn't So Much A Face As The Expression Of A Predicament.