How would you analyze Line 8 of John Updike's "Perfection Wasted"? And another regrettable thing about deathis the ceasing of your own brand of magic,which took a whole life to develop and market —the quips, the witticisms, the slantadjusted to a few, those loved ones nearestthe lip of the stage, their soft faces blanchedin the footlight glow, their laughter close to tears,their tears confused with their diamond earrings,their warm pooled breath in and out with your heartbeat,their response and your performance twinned.The jokes over the phone. The memories packedin the rapid-access file. The whole act.Who will do it again? That's it: no one;imitators and descendants aren't the same.
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Latest answer posted February 16, 2011 at 6:35:09 PM
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