Thetorment of human frustration, whatever its immediate cause,is the knowledge that the self is in prison, its vital force and ‘mangledmind’ leaking away in lonely, wasteful self-conflict.
A large ocean liner was headed across the Atlantic fromPortsmouth to New York. As it neared its destination at night, a lookout onthe wing of the bridge reported, ‘Light, bearing on the starboardbow.’‘Is it steady or moving astern?’ the captain called out