Morning Tea, and Other Reasons to Wake
There is, I think, no honest argument against the morning. The light is candid. The kettle is candid. Even the dog, who lies all day on his political opinions, is candid before nine.
He wrote in pencil, in margins, in the back of envelopes. These are the pieces we have transcribed so far. More will appear here as we find them — in notebooks, in cigar tins, in the cracks between his books.