Men Little Know When They

No Sensible Man Ever Engages, Unprepared, In A Fencing Match Of Words With A Woman.

The Future Of English Fiction May Rest With This Unknown Public - A Reading Public Of Three Millions Which Lies Right Out Of The Pale Of True Literary Civilization - Which Is Now Waiting To Be Taught The Difference Between A Good Book And A Bad.

My Hour For Tea Is Half-past Five, And My Buttered Toast Waits For Nobody.

I Sadly Want A Reform In The Construction Of Children. Nature's Only Idea Seems To Be To Make Them Machines For The Production Of Incessant Noise.

I Have Always Held The Old-fashioned Opinion That The Primary Object Of Work Of Fiction Should Be To Tell A Story.