New Criterion, October 1st, 2006
The passionate intellect really is passionate. It is the only point at which ecstasy can enter. I do not know whether we can be saved by the intellect, but I do know that I can be saved by nothing else.
--Dorothy L. Sayers
The Whig dogs should not have the best of it.
--Dr. Johnson
In 1672 (we owe this anecdote to Aubrey's Brief Lives), two great authors, both called John, had one of the strangest meetings that literature can reveal. The older scribe: Milton, sixty-four years old, blind, a grudgingly tolerated Cromwellian relic, able famously to inspire sweat-inducing fear and, much less...
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