I did very little reading during fair weekend, but every once in a while, during some hiatus between events, I sat quietly in my lawn chair and read James Joyce's story "The Dead." This is one of my favorite, favorite, favorite pieces of literature; and since I don't really like Ulysses or even Portrait of the Artist, it also makes me feel sad . . . as if Joyce needed to abandon such beauties for other, more progressive adventures.

It's rather difficult to quote brief passages from "The Dead." The story is so interwoven between present-moment action and lyrical thought that separating them seems to deaden the brilliance. So I think I won't try, just now, to search out a quotable paragraph. I'll only say, Go read it again, when you next get a chance.