''...By March 1893, Moore was contemplating a third operation. He reportedly hoped to keep his illness at bay by repeating these painful procedures indefinitely. Once surgery became impossible, he often remarked with a shrug, 'well, there was an end of it.' As it happened, Moore's doctors knew within weeks that the cancer had spread to his organs, making recovery impossible. With remarkable pragmatism, he resolved to complete 'The Loves of the Winds and the Seasons' in the brief time remaining to him. For the next six months, he toiled day and night, in acute pain, fearful of losing an hour. According to one report, 'he had to be strung up in a hammock chair, in wich he worked while his legs, swollen to twice their natural size, were tapped for dropsy.' Robertson had the impression that the effort 'was killing him', but that 'as his life passed into the fair limbs of the Winds and the Seasons he was happy.''' -- p.199
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.