There is something always emerging less as Himself and I have chosen to live with it, I think. Regard the Law of Diminishing Returns as He tries to keep a happy face around the apartment. Here is an example: the langorous jasmine of Eliot asleep through the afternoon was once the athlete of Eliot springing from under the morning.
It is hard to share a life with a Law—the End is fixed, so the Present, well, what is it for, then? But you can’t get rid of the Present. It is an ever and stern fade forward, like the reverse tail of a comet. The comet is hitched to its petering. There is no way to change my mind. The mind, during, has nothing to do with it.