A large ocean liner was headed across the Atlantic fromPortsmouth to New York. As it neared its destination at night, a lookout onthe wing of the bridge reported, ‘Light, bearing on the starboardbow.’‘Is it steady or moving astern?’ the captain called out
The tormentof human frustration, whatever its immediate cause, is the knowledge that theself is in prison, its vital force and ‘mangled mind’ leaking away in lonely,wasteful self-conflict.
