Excerpt from Ripple and Flood: A Novel
Here I sit, pen in hand, but what I have to write comes slowly. When a man seeks to discover the limits of his memory, it is as if he were trying to map with a definitive pencil the evading bounds of a hazy horizon. What he sees he does not see, and what he does not see he sees., Vainly he strives to separate his recollections from the imaginations with which they are immeshed. Nay, were he able to do so, who Shall decide whether the remembrance or the surmise be the better founded on fact Therefore in these autobiographical scraps, which I am purposing to put together into whatever artless design they may best run, I must not be understood to vouch for the entire reality of this or that detail. All I can say for certain is that the past has come out towards me, and I have gone back on it until we have met; but whether I have travelled so far on solid footing or at a volatile impulse is more than I know.
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