My father was a writer. He wrote all of his life, inflicting upon many of us his novels, plays, articles, essays, and self-help books. Some were marvelous; some merely well-intentioned. But of all the things he wrote, his journal is his legacy: by turns wise and bewildering, it neared 1,100 type-written pages when he died in 2010. Although perused many times, this is the first time it will be read - cover to cover, page after page.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Sacrifice
People who, like the Duke of Windsor and others who turn up in magazines, those who have made great sacrifices (even when their actions have only borrowed that name) must be sure to keep what they have done "of value," and so they repeat -- or permit the repetition -- of their story even when it is more old than valued. It is a defining even this sacrifice, and so it must always have been a wonderful trade. It has always to be worth what might instead have been.
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