I Do Not 'get' Ideas;

Many Authors Write Like Amateur Blacksmiths Making Their First Horseshoe; The Clank Of The Anvil, The Stench Of The Scorched Leather Apron, The Sparks And The Cursing Are Palpable, And This Appeals To Those Who Rank "sincerity" Very High. Nabokov Is More Like A Master Swordsmith Making A Fine Blade; Nothing Is Amiss, Nothing Is Too Much, There Is No Fuss, And The Finished Product Must Be Handled With Great Care, Or It Will Cut You Badly.

In A Government Like Ours, The Crown Is The Abiding And Unshakable Element In Government; Politicians May Come And Go, But The Crown Remains And Certain Aspects Of Our System Pertain To It Which Are Not Dependent On Any Political Party. In This Sense, The Crown Is The Consecrated Spirit Of Canada.

Every Man Is Wise When Attacked By A Mad Dog; Fewer When Pursued By A Mad Woman; Only The Wisest Survive When Attacked By A Mad Notion.

It Seemed To Me As If The Stones Sang, In The Strangest Voices, In The Language Of Ultima Thule.

Canada Is Not Really A Place Where You Are Encouraged To Have Large Spiritual Adventures.