Priscilla Rich lived a life not to be bored.. by anything.. she lived a life like a Wilkinson... it was the Olympian in her.. everything excited her.. she willed it in herself ever since she had seen a copy of William James's "Varieties of Religious Experience" in a used book-store and not bought it.. for some reason she put off reading this book.. for some.. arcane reason.. ever since she saw this book in a used-book store.. she had resolved not to be bored.. to feel excitement by the most subtle, effusive, elusive wind of sensation inside herself.. so that even when she .. Priscilla Rich.. felt death in the soul inside her core consciousness, she still felt the most subtle, elusive wind of defiance within that death of the soul within herself, a defiance against boredom...
... She re-fastened her belt-buckle as she walked down the street.. wait.. "Varieties of Religious Experience".. that was the name of the book.. wadn't it..?.. had she gotten the name of the book wrong in her prodigious memory...?... was it.. "Varieties of Religious Sensation"... of was she thinking of Dr. Paul Ree's "Origin of the Moral Sensations".. a book she truly intended to find to read someday... Blok... Priscilla's Rich's cultural mind was haunted by the name of the man, the young man of the student Russian intelligentsia of the 1920's... the name of the man, "Blok".. and how much his name resembled the word "Book"... in English...
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