How little of what you felt and thought did you take the trouble to express!
When your corpse follows your brother's to the crematory in Gdynia, what epitaph?
Here lies a minor author—an excessive curiosity and a penchant for investigation—who never bothered to write up his reports.
So every artist and would-be artist makes this same phrase.
I knew: I never got it said.
Isn't it true of you, also?
Didn't you know—and weren't you always on the verge of saying so—when you had to go to the movies, lunch, the bathroom, bed, or the jute mill in quest of new shoes for baby?
Yanh-yanh.
Each generation learns enough too late to pass it to the next, for when the learning's accomplished the newcomers have always been educated ahead of the achievement—in ignorance.
So when will cradles be rocked by wise men and good women?