I am currently reading "The Goshawk" by T.H. White, a novel about a man and his bird. I thought I would share a delicious excerpt you all might enjoy:
To divest oneself of unnecessary possessions, and mainly of other people: that was the business of life.
One had to find out what things were not necessary, what things one really needed. A little music and liquor, still less food, a warm and beautiful but not too big roof of one's own, a channel for one's creative energies and love, the sun and the moon. These were enough, and contact with Gos in his ultimately undefiled separation was better than the endless mean conflict between male and female or the lust for power in adolescent battle which led men into business and Rolls-Royce motor cars and war.
I did not disapprove of war, but feared it much. What did it matter however? It might kill us a score of years before we should in other circumstances die. It was pointless, cruel, wasteful, and to the lonely individual terrible; but it did not matter in the least whether he survived or not. I should be killed, likely, and my civilization perhaps wiped out.
But man would not be wiped out. What did it matter then? That one dictator for his own megalomania should destroy a culture: it was a drop only beside the sum of cultures and perhaps a good thing. In the world which I had run away from I had found so much wickedness in our present development that one could have no definite feelings about its termination: and, as for myself, I was wind in any case.
....ahhhhhhh. Like a brain massage after a long exhausting day.
