_And Anyhow_


And anyhow, soon, so soon (in only seven million years or
thereabouts the Encyclopaedia said) this Earth would grow cold,
all human activities end, and the last wretched mortals freeze
to death in the dim rays of the dying Sun.




_Drawbacks_


I should be all right.... If it weren't for these sudden
visitations of Happiness, these downpourings of Heaven's blue,
little invasions of Paradise, or waftings to the Happy Islands,
or whatever you may call these disconcerting Moments, I should
be like everybody else, and as blameless a rate-payer as any in
our Row.




_Talk_