NO ONE CAN STAND IN FOR HIM

3 7 R N O O N E C A N S T A N D I N F O R H I M G E O F F R E Y H A R T M A N For John Hollander, in memoriam No one can stand in for him. The well of his wit never failed the way he timed it or it got hold of him beginning ever so softly then a rising that could hardly go higher or faster, breaking the speed-limit of our understanding. But why, with me, did his voice remain soft? Was I more vulnerable than I knew? Less hardy, although equally tender? The last time I saw him, confined to his bed, and a few painful words, he, always so eloquent, that wondrous word-weaving, witty brain now turning against him: he greeted me, softly as ever, with no words except: Geo√rey, I can’t write any more. ...