Портрет художника в юности

           AfterapauseStephenbegan:

           —Aristotlehasnotdefinedpityandterror.Ihave.IsayLynchhaltedandsaidbluntly:

           —Stop!Iwon’tlisten!Iamsick.IwasoutlastnightonayellowdrunkwithHoranandGoggins.

           Stephenwenton:

           —Pityisthefeelingwhicharreststhemindinthepresenceofwhatsoeverisgraveandconstantinhumansufferingsandunitesitwiththehumansufferer.Terroristhefeelingwhicharreststhemindinthepresenceofwhatsoeverisgraveandconstantinhumansufferingsandunitesitwiththesecretcause.

           —Repeat,saidLynch.

           Stephenrepeatedthedefinitionsslowly.

           —Agirlgotintoahansomafewdaysago,hewenton,inLondon.Shewasonherwaytomeethermotherwhomshehadnotseenformanyyears.Atthecornerofastreettheshaftofalorryshiveredthewindowofthehansomintheshapeofastar.Alongfineneedleoftheshiveredglasspiercedherheart.Shediedontheinstant.Thereportercalleditatragicdeath.Itisnot.Itisremotefromterrorandpityaccordingtothetermsofmydefinitions.

           —Thetragicemotion,infact,isafacelookingtwoways,towardsterrorandtowardspity,bothofwhicharephasesofit.YouseeIusethewordARREST.Imeanthatthetragicemotionisstatic.Orratherthedramaticemotionis.Thefeelingsexcitedbyimproperartarekinetic,desireorloathing.