The occasional cheap laugh, raised eyebrow or provocation of interest are all I'll plead guilty to in the matter of intent. Bene qui latuit bene vixit. Finally, if anyone's offended by anything on this site then please do notify me immediately. I like to keep track of those times when I get something right. The words in poems are referential, they breathe with denotation and connotation, suggestion and semantics, coding and signing.
Paint is real stuff and the matter of painting contains itself in a frame.
Music, in the precision of its form and the mathematical tyranny of its laws, escapes into an eternity of abstraction and an absurd sublime that is everywhere and nowhere at once. Later, sneaky Fry enters the headmaster's study to pinch a stamp and discovers the results of an intelligence test recently taken by the entire school. Scattered amongst the digressions are several passages about Fry's family, his public school years, his realizing why he really liked the novels of Ronald Firbank and Norman Douglas, and the influences that made Fry the actor and writer what he was and is. Later on the cadences, tropes, excellences and defects of other writers and their rhetorical tricks, Dickens, Wilde, Firbank, Waugh and Benson, may have entered in and joined the mix, but those primal three had much to do with the way I spoke and, therefore, how I thought. I ever though outside of language.