Kneebone and his Friends. . . Do you know the story of Orpheus? He was a musician who followed his damned wife into Hell to bring her back? He was one of us, I believe. “Just do it. Evidently her foresight has saved me a funeral. They don’t catch on to discursive interests, you see, because they are more serious, they are concentrated on the central reality of life, and a little impatient of its—its outer aspects. This young man, whose features, though rather plain and coarse, bore the strongest impress of genius, and who had a dark gray, penetrating eye, so quick in its glances that it seemed to survey twenty objects at once, and yet only to fasten upon one, bore the honoured name of William Hogarth. He was, in fact, quite eager to go on living. I had already won wars and sailed ships to distant lands by the time I was thirty. I can't spare you at present.
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