The main character,
if one actually exists.
Could be brought to
light in spectacular,
vivid detail, if only
we had a very large
amount of time in
which to do such a
thing. The hero of
this story, thinks
Bertrand, as he
wakes up with a
start at two in the
morning, is utterly
devoid of character.
Bill abruptly relayed,
and in quite a tizzy,
that it was the last
he’d say about the
matter. While the
judge promptly dis-
missed the case, all
attending the pro-
ceeding found it
impossible to ever
forget what they
had witnessed that
afternoon in that
dimly lit courtroom.
One thing I do almost
every day is assign
it a subject. Some-
times I do this just
as I get out of bed,
some days during
my lunch hour or
later in the after-
noon and some-
times not until
I am lying in bed
preparing to go to
sleep. Examples
are “oopsy-daisy,”
“moldy rose” and
“half-eaten sand-
wich” (this should
not suggest that
the subjects are
always quite as
bleak as these,
or at least I don’t
think they are).
That man sets
such a horrible
example. I’d
either need to
be a bit further
uphill or else
crouched down
as low as I could
possibly go in
order to look
up to you, and
even then there’d
be no guarantee.
What the nurse
lacked in temper-
ament, he most
assuredly made
up for with his
moral turpitude.
Schuyler was ex-
plaining to Sheila
how people were
all the time coming
up to him to insist
that he mustn’t sweat
it, that these predica-
ments always manage
to build character.
Herbert drew a line
horizontally on the
blank page to rep-
resent his life. Right
through the middle of
that line he drew one
vertical. The left half
he penciled in “pre-
diagnosis” and on
the right he wrote,
simply, “post.”
