Sure. I’m reading Shakespeare because I haven’t anything better to do. Because Shakespeare is the best, and I owe it to myself. I’m reading Shakespeare because I happen to have his complete works. I’m reading him because I took a course on him in college, liked it, and got an A for it, so I figured I could learn something. I’m reading Shakespeare for all the reasons I couldn’t possibly think of. I’m doing it because it’s hard and I’m hard up. Because I wish someone would ask me why I’m doing it. Because I want you to tell me how silly it is to be reading Shakespeare. I’m doing it only for its natural absurdity. For the birds, because it’s got atmosphere, and I’m feeling faint. Because it’s got reason and I’m a prune.
29 January 1974