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“Yet even as despairing bards clutched their bottles of prussic acid, or coughed out their life-blood on the pillow, they were sustained by the dream of fame in the afterlife.”
“This is a very unfashionable sort of fame today. What use is celebrity that comes only after your demise? You can’t use it to blag an upgrade into First Class then, can you? Poetic celebrity has declined since the days when Byron was the cynosure of all Europe and poetry critics dissected the latest incendiary offering from Shelley with all the rigour of Paul Morley analysing a New Order lyric.”
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