You Have This Comet Trail

I Didn't Write Anything Until I Was Well Over 30.

It Seems To Me That Everything That Happens To Us Is A Disconcerting Mix Of Choice And Contingency.

Perhaps I Shall Not Write My Account Of The Paleolithic At All, But Make A Film Of It. A Silent Film At That, In Which I Shall Show You First The Great Slumbering Rocks Of The Cambrian Period, And Move From Those To The Mountains Of Wales...from Ordovician To Devonian, On The Lush Glowing Cotswolds, On To The White Cliffs Of Dover... An Impressionistic, Dreaming Film, In Which The Folded Rocks Arise And Flower And Grow And Become Salisbury Cathedral And York Minster.

History Unravels; Circumstances, Following Their Natural Inclination, Prefer To Remain Ravelled.

All History, Of Course, Is The History Of Wars.