Although I'm past the halfway point, I still
have seven hundred pages of reduced
type left before I reach the end. I will
slog through. It cannot get much more dull than what
is happening now: he's buying crepe-de, chine
wraps and a real, well-documented hat
For his imaginary Albertine.
Oh, what a slimy sort he must have been-
So weak, so sweetly poisonous, so fey!
Four years ago, by God! -and even then
How I was looking forward to the day
I would be able to forgive, at last,
And to forget "Remembrance of Things Past."