The true function of a writer is to produce a masterpiece and no other task is of any consequence
... asserteth Palinurus.
For my review, you must imagine my lips pursed in a fleeting moue, as my left eyebrow arches a quizzical but elegant millimetre.
As Sainte-Beuve would have it:
In most men there is a dead poet whom the man survives.
Oh really?
No, O'Reilly.
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