Wits are never happy people. The anguish that has scraped their nerves and left them raw to every flicker of life is the base of wit—for the raw nerve reacts at once without any agent, the reaction is direct, with no integumentary obstacles. Wit is the cry of pain, the true word that pierces the heart. If it does not pierce, then it is not true wit. True wit should break a good man's heart.
Belief and beyond belief - In tune with the *zeitgeist*, the London Philharmonic dedicated yesterday's performance of Mozart's Requiem to the four victims of Wednesday's terrible a...
23 hours ago