My photocopy of his [Pere d'Entrecolles] letters now resembles a palimpsest. I've underlined almost everything, and written notes slant-ways on his comments, in taxis and on my knee in the street and leaning against trees. There are stains. Possibly noodles. I hope he'd understand, but I'm not confident about Jesuits and untidiness.
E. de Waal, The White road (2015), 52
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