18th August (1918)

My penultimate breakfast of bread and dip gastronomically accommodated I sit and face the future with self-righteous fortitude.  But where is my mail?  Alphonso sits and polishes his buttons and shines his boots like a good soldier.  I do neither, being after all, a “N.Zedder.”  Having now read nothing of importance for a couple of years I find my mind growing curiously bankrupt.  Yet, if one’s mind can be maintained only by assimilating the ideas of others, how is it to gain originality? (Echo – of some similar phenomenon – answers – “How?”).

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s