Can anyone avail me of the tale of an Irishman (possibly a monk) who was so astonished by the fact that he'd written a book so perfect, that he threw it into the sea, fearing that after reading it, no-one would ever bother to write a book again because it could never compare?
I think I originally read this in an issue of FT many moons ago, but can't be too sure as I don't have them with me down here. Has it any basis in fact or is it mere legend?
I think I originally read this in an issue of FT many moons ago, but can't be too sure as I don't have them with me down here. Has it any basis in fact or is it mere legend?