Sir,

Your article about the genius of Professor Richard Dawkins was just slightly undermined by the accompanying photograph, which demonstrated his inability to put on a pair of matching socks (Times2, May 23).  There is hope for me yet then.

Professor Dominic Regan

Bath

All of these concoctions come courtesy of the “conscious dance movement,” which evolved from an underground movement into morning raves and lunchtime dance parties, often attended by millennial office workers. It seeks to create a positive – and healthy – environment, in which participants can unhinge themselves from negative thoughts and social inhibitions. Alcohol is usually a no-no, as are illegal drugs. Self-actualization, communal bonding and calorie-burning are key.

His college prospects (or lack thereof) loom amusingly large, as does prom, undiminished by views of “all of creation,” which looks “a bit like a computer screen saver from the early nineties.”

Lucid’s pixie-like party organizer, Ruby May, isn’t a purist when it comes to the stuff: She spikes the 18 pounds of cacao per party with sweet hints of honey, agave syrup and cinnamon, and the celebrations go on for six hours. “It’s like a smooth, sensual hug in a cup,” says the 36-year old.

I wanted to understand what witchcraft really meant to its protagonists, the witches and sorcerers.

In the ’90s… I’ll never forget there was a tent where you went in… and they would show lesbian love-making. Hillary Clinton was in this up to her ears.

“The Farewell Symphony” (Knopf, 413 pages, $25) is a rather fancy title for a book that might have been more honestly called “Hilly Buttocks I Have Known.”

Head still full of thaumaturgical theory, Minerva could only gape at him.

But they were young, and their sweat seemed only an invitation to taste all the body’s salt streams.

The danger in applying this antidote – and a reason we fear to do so – is that we may conclude that everything is shit.