The Quarrel with Self (Ne tibi supersis. May you not outlive yourself)   At sixty-two I seemed adrift from what I took to be my gift, observed with crude despondency how colleagues aged round sixty-three, slipped off toward eternity (David Campbell, RFB), because to be the thing they were must choose some end of character to match a process with a whole that tried an image for the soul.   Ill-health’s our in-house artist, is all egotist in its show-biz. Forbodings played for me ad lib, I quizzed the pain behind my rib, lay patient on the doctor’s bed— I…