Reminiscences of a Dancing Man

Thomas Hardy was, in my opinion, a greater poet than he was a novelist,

Here he writes, as most often he does, as an older man looking back on his former days, and not only reminiscing about them in themselves, but rather seeing right through them again, as if they themselves were the ghosts, as they are now to him, to the days of those who danced before he and the ladies of his youth, and before those antecedents again, like a hall of mirrors until the picture becomes eternal.

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