I'm Doing One Of Three

Hannibal At Eighteen Was Rooting For Mephistopheles And Contemptuous Of Faust, But He Only Half-listened To The Climax. He Was Watching And Breathing Lady Murasaki...

I Ate His Liver With Some Fava Beans And A Nice Chianti

He Was Numb Except For Dreading The Loss Of Numbness.

Problem-solving Is Hunting; It Is Savage Pleasure And We Are Born To It.

In The Vaults Of Our Hearts And Brains, Danger Waits. All The Chambers Are Not Lovely, Light And High. There Are Holes In The Floor Of The Mind, Like Those In A Medieval Dungeon Floor - The Stinking Oubliettes, Named For Forgetting, Bottle-shaped Cells In Solid Rock With The Trapdoor In The Top. Nothing Escapes From Them Quietly To Ease Us. A Quake, Some Betrayal By Our Safeguards, And Sparks Of Memory Fire The Noxious Gases - Things Trapped For Years Fly Free, Ready To Explode In Pain And Drive Us To Dangerous Behavior.