Patriotism Is The Religion Of

American Literature Was Enriched With Men Who Loved Allison .... Of The Actual And Eventual Worth Of This Romance I Cannot Pretend To Be An Unprejudiced Judge. The Tale Seems To Me One Of Those Many Books Which Have Profited, Very Dubiously Indeed, By Having Obtained, In One Way Of Another, The Repute Of Being Indecent.

There Is No Escaping, At Times, The Gloomy Suspicion That Fiddling With Pens And Ink Is, After All, No Fit Employment For A Grown Man.

I Fight Against The Gluttony Of Time With So Many Very Amusing Weapons With Gestures And With Three Attitudes And With Charming Phrases; With Tears And With Tinsel, And With Sugar-coated Pills, And With Platitudes Slightly Regilded. Yes, And I Fight Him Also With Little Mirrors Wherein Gleam Confusedly The Corruptions Of Lust, And Ruddy Loyalty, And A Bit Of Moonshine, And The Pure Diamond Of The Heart's Desire, And The Opal Cloudings Of Human Compromise: But, Above All, I Fight That Ravening Dotard With The Strength Of My Own Folly.

Literature Is A Vast Bazaar Where Customers Come To Purchase Everything Except Mirrors.

What Is Man That His Welfare Be Considered? An Ape Who Chatters Of Kinship With The Archangels While He Very Filthily Digs For Groundnuts. And Yet I Perceive That This Same Man Is A Maimed God. He Is Condemned Under Penalty To Measure Eternity With An Hourglass And Infinity With A Yardstick And What Is More, He Very Nearly Does It.