Among the more the pompous words I used during my youth, there are a few which have etched themselves onto the foremost pillar of my mind: pusillanimous, quixotic, recalcitrant, loquacious, grandiloquent, debonair, munificence, pulchritude, vaudeville, vicissitudes, vichyssoise (these last few are from V’s speech, of which I can still remember every vivifying word – how marvelous the memory of a mimetic child). These are all words which I feel I can employ as easily as a workman employ his tools. Now, however, I seem no longer able to immortalize any such seductive words. I come across one and use it in my writing; but in a week’s time, it is forgotten. Could it be that our memory as a child is much more capable?