This is unexposed film of Greenwich Village because nothing ever happens there.
One believes that if nothing happens, one disappears. That is not true.
And indeed nothing had happened, a momentous nothing, just another of the great world's shrugs of indifference.
Poetry makes nothing happen.
Driver Shepherd and I had been detailed to drive Lt. Budden in the Wireless Truck. We had been standing by vehicles for an hour, and nothing had happened, but it happened frequently.
I suppose this is the reason why diaries are so rarely kept nowadays- that nothing ever happens to anybody.
First of all nothing will happen and a little later nothing will happen again.
