When I asked him what, if anything, I could do about it, he surprised me by referring me to the director of the hall.

Was I sure, he asked, that I knew what I was applying for??

I asked Rawlins.

`` Why '', he went on, `` when Rob asked me if he could make his dive on this trip, I didn't think twice about it.

I have just asked these questions in the Pentagon, in the White House, in offices of key scientists across the country and aboard the submarines that prowl for months underwater, with neat rows of green launch tubes which contain Polaris missiles and which are affectionately known as `` Sherwood Forest ''.

I asked the same questions inside the launch-control rooms of an Atlas missile base in Wyoming, where officers who wear sidearms are manning the `` commit buttons '' that could start a war -- accidentally or by design -- and in the command centers where other pistol-packing men could give orders to push such buttons.

I asked Wisman what would happen if he broke out the go codes and tried to start transmitting one.

I asked.

How, I asked, could chaos be admitted to chaos??

I asked about the battle between life and death in his plays.

Given a theological lead, I asked what he thinks about those who find a religious significance to his plays.

At a party an English intellectual -- so-called -- asked me why I write always about distress.

I was having lunch not long ago ( apologies to N. V. Peale ) with three distinguished historians ( one specializing in the European Middle Ages, one in American history, and one in the Far East ), and I asked them if they could name instances where the general mores had been radically changed with `` deliberate speed, majestic instancy '' ( Francis Thompson's words for the Hound Of Heaven's Pursuit ) by judicial fiat.

Just as I was about to enlarge upon my discovery of the underside of the leaf of love, memory, displeased at being asked to yield its unsavory secrets, dashed ahead of me, calling back over its shoulder: `` Skip it.

The waspish man stopped me three paces from the bicycle barricade, and asked me in French if I had papers to leave France.

I asked him.

I asked.

One of the girl students, sitting by while I ate the thick soup, asked me if I had a sleeping bag.

I asked him.

Once or twice my father asked me if I wasn't overdoing a bit in my churchgoing.

`` I don't have many strays coming to my front door '', he said.

`` All my life '', he said, `` I tried.

`` I hate to leave my garden '', Gavin said.

I loved my garden ''.

`` I never felt better in my life '', Fiske blustered.

In the brief moment I had to talk to them before I took my post on the ring of defenses, I indicated I was sickened by the methods men employed to live and trade on the river.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Gray Eyes rushing at me with a knife.

I could see them in my sights.

I found his chest in my sights.

At the last second I dropped my sights from the bare chest and bright red circle to the chest of his pony.

In my sights I watched him looming bigger and bigger.

Such was my state of mind that I did not question the possibility of this ; ;

I would turn away from my writing in the hope of getting a good look at them but I never quite succeeded.

Now, here was something of obvious importance to me, yet when I reached for the tickets he snatched them away from my hand.

I withdrew my hand.

Having nothing else to do except wait for my forms to be processed, I gave myself over to speculations concerning the hall itself.

For although I had crossed a corner of the hall on my way to the toilet I still could not tell for sure how far to the rear the darkness extended.

This light did not penetrate very far back into the hall, and my eyes were hindered rather than aided by the dim daylight entering through the fan vents when I tried to pick out whatever might be lying, or squatting, on the floor below.

No sooner would I turn my head away from the counter before he would address me, at times quite sharply, in order to bring back my attention.

I only feel sorry for my mom and dad, I wish they could be happy for us.

I remember my dad always seating a mentally handicapped man in the front row and hugging him.

It was a sort of unwritten rule around the neighbourhood that I was to be out there myself or with my dad.

* My dad and I haven't ever really been close.

She said when accepting the award that her dad would probably quip, " Well, ain't I lucky.

" Also, while he was watching Gina, he confides to his dad, " There's somethin ' about Gina that I can't figger out.

And I remember walking over to Sumner school with my dad that day and going up the steps of the school and the school looked so big to a smaller child.

And I remember going inside and my dad spoke with someone and then he went into the inner office with the principal and they left me out.

I knew it bothered my dad.

I can remember it very vividly — as if it happened yesterday, and I can see my dad running down the hill, rescuing me, and taking me to the hospital.

And I spend the summer here with my dad.

I used to show dad everything I'd built or painted at school, and this one sparked off the idea ..." Lucy Vodden née O ' Donnell, in a BBC radio interview in 2007, said, " I remember Julian and I both doing pictures on a double-sided easel, throwing paint at each other, much to the horror of the classroom attendant ... Julian had painted a picture and on that particular day his father turned up with the chauffeur to pick him up from school.

I thought how my dad, who was from Oklahoma, would have felt.

( 1955 ), had come out ; and my dad took me to see it — I just see her, and I go, uh-oh, it doesn't really quite register with me, ' cause I'm in total shock, because I wanted to hate her, but the instant that I met her, I got the essence of her.