We move in clock time amidst the debris of vanished worlds, inventing the instruments of our own destruction, oblivious of fate and destiny, knowing never a moment of peace, possessing not an ounce of faith, a prey to the blackest superstitions, functioning neither in the body or spirit, active not as individuals but as microbes in the organism of the diseased.
Henry Miller – The Colossus of Maroussi
Published in 1941, Miller thought that The Colossus of Maroussi was his best work. I tend to agree. It is a travelogue while carousing around Greece during the early days of Word War II. Some of the quotes seem as though they were written last week.
