Please don’t say that I’m alone. Or perhaps I am, and that’s why I do it. Yes, I know some of you, the captains of industry, the retired teachers, were forced to learn bushels of poetry, in the good old days. You can declaim “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day” and “I wandered lonely as a cloud” if called upon . . . but you never are. Memorising couplets may train your intellect, and keep the great voices of the canon alive but, otherwise, does it sustain you?
Read MoreMy copy of Edward Lear's Nonsense Omnibus shows why bookbinding is not a task for the young. The spine has been reattached upside-down...from the Independent's Book of a Lifetime
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