A Preface for Unpublished Works

      Montaigne said he was able to entertain both Catholics and Protestants--at separate times, of course--who were slaughtering each other by following one simple rule: no one was to share with him any secrets.  I try to imitate his noble example in reverse: I will not share any secrets here or anywhere else.  Silence is an essential part of any civilized discourse. If my doctors have any knowledge about how to cure mortality as the common fate of all living beings--except possibly those capable of simple fission for reproduction--they have not told me. If they know they will find me willing to listen. But I am mindful of Jonathan Swift's portrait of immortality in Gulliver's Travels so I am not certain I would even want to know the secret of earthly immortality.  I am grumpy enough at 68.  Swift understood our Yahoo frailty all-too-well. Though, God knows, I am balky about my ephemeral nature, I am nevertheless grateful for all the days of my life, even those I try not to remember too clearly. Trying to think clearly is one of my greatest joys.  I wish I could declare more than merely intention but I would fool no one if I did.  Spontaneous writing is more revelatory than one might wish. Any teacher will tell you that students have lynx eyes for your foibles. However, both teachers and students are a little too hasty to imagine they see with divine insight.  A little scepticism goes a long way to deflate such pretentions.  The Biblical verse that includes the phrase "through a glass darkly" perhaps expresses best our limited understanding of each other and of every other thing in this most amazing universe.  It still astounds me to look up into the night sky and think about how many years ago the lights of those stars began traveling to our world.