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Friday, March 8, 2002
Darwin on his Deathbed
By Paul Ford
The words were lost; he speaks to an unknown secretary.
I counted everything - wings, claws, eyes, bones enumerated in my notebooks. 45,000 pounds to start with. And all the china plates I needed. Huxley was my bulldog against those pernicious vicars.
On my travels I saw the evidence of a tide of violent time washing away the things which could not root themselves strongly. When I was a young boy I loved beetles so much I put one in my mouth so my hands would be free to grab other beetles. Alas it ejected some intensely acrid fluid, which burnt my tongue.
What does it mean to love a wife even though you know her deepest faiths are predicated on falsehoods? And fascinating that she and I could reach the same conclusions with such entirely opposite means. And 8 good children.
Who? Send them away. It's too late to convert me to anything but earth. My eyes will close, they will not open again somewhere else. Better than earth would be sea; let me rub stones to sand and wash the sand away.
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