It Was The Kind Of

That's A Bit Like Asking A Man Crawling Across The Sahara Whether He Would Prefer Perrier Or Malvern Water.

I Suppose I'm The Only Person Who Remembers One Of The Most Exciting Of His Ballets-it's The Fruit Of An Unlikely Collaboration Between Nijinsky On The One Hand And Sir Arthur Conan Doyle On The Other.

What She Was Finding Also Was How One Book Led To Another, Doors Kept Opening Wherever She Turned And The Days Weren't Long Enough For The Reading She Wanted To Do.

At The Drabber Moments Of My Life (swilling Some Excrement From The Steps, For Instance, Or Rooting With A Bent Coat-hanger Down A Blocked Sink) Thoughts Occur Like 'i Bet Tom Stoppard Doesn't Have To Do This' Or There Is No Doubt David Hare Would Have Deputed This To An Underling.'

To Read Is To Withdraw.to Make Oneself Unavailable. One Would Feel Easier About It If The Pursuit Inself Were Less...selfish.