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           ’ThuswhenIcometoshapehereatthistablebetweenmyhandsthestoryofmylifeandsetitbeforeyouasacompletething,Ihavetorecallthingsgonefar,gonedeep,sunkintothislifeorthatandbecomepartofit;dreams,too,thingssurroundingme,andtheinmates,thoseoldhalf-articulateghostswhokeepuptheirhauntingsbydayandnight;whoturnoverintheirsleep,whouttertheirconfusedcries,whoputouttheirphantomfingersandclutchatmeasItrytoescape--shadowsofpeopleonemighthavebeen;unbornselves.Thereistheoldbrute,too,thesavage,thehairymanwhodabbleshisfingersinropesofentrails;andgobblesandbelches;whosespeechisguttural,visceral--well,heishere.Hesquatsinme.To-nighthehasbeenfeastedonquails,salad,andsweetbread.Henowholdsaglassoffineoldbrandyinhispaw.Hebrindles,purrsandshootswarmthrillsalldownmyspineasIsip.Itistrue,hewasheshishandsbeforedinner,buttheyarestillhairy.Hebuttonsontrousersandwaistcoats,buttheycontainthesameorgans.HejibsifIkeephimwaitingfordinner.Hemopsandmowsperpetually,pointingwithhishalf-idiotgesturesofgreedandcovetousnessatwhathedesires.Iassureyou,Ihavegreatdifficultysometimesincontrollinghim.Thatman,thehairy,theape-like,hascontributedhisparttomylife.Hehasgivenagreenerglowtogreenthings,hasheldhistorchwithitsredflames,itsthickandsmartingsmoke,behindeveryleaf.Hehaslitupthecoolgardeneven.