Each one
From one’s little noose
Cranes out
Yells and shouts
Groans aloud
And grows stout
And the noose tightens
Leaving no way to creap out
Till at the end
Swollen
Spent out
Becomes silent.

I am also having my turn among all.

School children, who have enjoyed reading a romance or a detective thriller or a novel about terror and conquest, make the invariable mistake of studying literature in the college. They make the mistake of learning theory in place of art; they acquire impediments in their own enjoyment of the books by allowing a set of theories to govern their own reading.

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