I am saddened to learn of the death of Sir Roger Scruton, an eminent philosopher whose views I respected and gentle manner I admired.
A hermit, I am inclined to hoard rather than share myself. I appreciate the company of others, but the interaction feels unnatural—forced and draining. It takes me days to recover.
The traditional poet’s greatest challenge is surely the avoidance of cliché. It takes great effort to eradicate from a composition, made harder by the fact that in the throes of writing, it can be difficult to detect. Adding to the agony is the task of its extraction—oft at the cost of a much-loved idea.