A World of My Own: A Dream Diary

A World of My Own: A Dream Diary

Graham Greene

Language: English

Pages: 144

ISBN: 0670852791

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Drawing on his private world of dreams, the author of The Power and the Glory provides readers with an inner glimpse at the fantasy life that he considered integral to his creative expression. 10,000 first printing. National ad/promo.

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who had just returned from a picnic. I had known them before, when they were in Santo Domingo. But of course ambassadors never want to get involved in trouble. On another visit I had gone to the lavatory of my hotel in Haiti to shit when I was told that an admiral and a general were waiting to see me. I hurried to finish and join them. They looked a little absurd in their uniforms and decorations, but they seemed honest men. They told me that any day now there was going to be a revolution. ‘You

to Bogotá in the company of Henry James. The boat left after midnight and we had to find our way along the quay in complete darkness, carrying our hand baggage. I would have turned back if it had not been for the determination of the great author, and my admiration for his work. What made things worse was the loud voice of an official—invisible in the darkness—who was continually shouting threats. ‘Anyone who tries to come on board without a ticket will be fined one thousand dollars.’ In the

into a nearby house. He had been shot by Evelyn Waugh and was bleeding from his wounds. I followed him and stuck my kitchen knife into his side, but he seemed unhurt by my blow and began a literary discussion of which, strangely enough, I can remember nothing. Next night I found myself at a party, again with Auden, and I do remember our conversation then. I expressed my preference for living in England rather than in the United States because English literature was far richer than American.

came down to see me—a trim, amiable little man with a monocle. One of my colleagues—who closely resembled Colonel Maude, who had been assistant chief sub-editor when I was on The Times—joined in our talk. I recounted how this week the New Statesman had printed that the former C had left top secret information addressed to the head of the Foreign Office lying on his desk for anyone to read. In June 1965 I found myself back in West Africa for the Secret Service. At a railway station my bags

who was dangerous. With another man I was spying in Germany, dressed in the uniform of a German officer. We were very light-hearted about the whole affair and to escape we took a train that would cross the Swiss frontier. Nor were we very perturbed when a beautiful young woman demanded our papers. My companion, who was of a higher rank, said that our papers were packed in our luggage, and she accepted the excuse, only marking our tickets in pencil with the numeral 75. Another moment of

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