He had begun the diary less as a record of his life {for whom and why? What life?} than as a regular and a self-indulgent exploration, a means of making sense of the past years, part catharsis, part comforting affirmation. The diary, which had become a routine part of his life, was pointless if he had to censor, to leave out, if he had to deceive not illumine.
( P.D. James )
[ The Children of Men ]
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