How puerile can I get? Somebody was asking me the other day, and I think this tells the story. I read the first eight hundred thousand, three hundred and sixty-three pages of War and Peace, stopping exactly twenty pages before the end. I wished to make the point, Count Lev Nikolayevich, I hope you are listening to this, that I could
have finished it but chose not to.
So, hmmm. Pretty puerile indeed.
Good call, kiddo, I thought to myself a few weeks ago when I saw the movie, The Last Station. One can be puerile and oh-so-right.