For Ervin Alacsi

"[W]hen one looks into the forty-odd volumes of Dennis the Carthusian, one gets the impression that with him writing was something like the basket-weaving of the early solitaries - a mechanical action that kept him busy and that had no particular reference to an admiring public. Dennis could write a book on any subject, much as a pious housewife might knit a sweater or a pair of socks."

(in a photocopy lent to me last autumn of part of some unidentified book)(I know it's usual to call him Denis, but I much prefer Dennis.)