As you have perceived, it was my intention at the beginning of this text to betray to you my meanings, no matter how deeply I wrapped them in codes. Remember the forty-eighth woodcut? The child in the chariot, butchering the two women?” “The one Taft showed in his lecture. The rich human backdrop of Taft’s and Curry’s worlds—their colleagues and college friends, their sisters and mothers and former flames—darkened into an empty stage with a single spotlight. In the landscape of my childhood, Colonna’s book was a deserted mansion on a hill, a foreboding shadow over any nearby thought.
The laid-back, catholic-minded midwestern boy and the fearsome, focused New Yorker were different animals, and th You don't look well. And the years willpass. He tops the glasses off.
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