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. . . human kind cannot bear very much reality. T. S. ELIOT, Four Quartets When I was a little child, I lived in an old and somewhat rickety house by the sea. When the winter wind blew, the house would shake and tremble, and cold drafts would whistle through cracks in the walls. You might have thought that lying in bed in a dark room on such cold, windy nights would have frightened me. But it had just the opposite effect: having known this en vironment since birth, I actually found the shaking of the house, the whistling of the wind, and the crashing of the sea to be comforting, and I was...