The Ideal Companion In Bed

The Victorians Have Been Immoderately Praised, And Immoderately Blamed, And Surely It Is Time We Formed Some Reasonable Picture Of Them? There Was Their Courageous, Intellectually Adventurous Side, Their Greedy And Inhuman Side, Their Superbly Poetic Side, Their Morally Pretentious Side, Their Tea And Buttered Toast Side, And Their Champagne And Skittles Side. Much Like Ourselves, In Fact, Though Rather Dirtier.

I Would Not For A Moment Have You Suppose That I Am One Of Those Idiots Who Scorns Science, Merely Because It Is Always Twisting And Turning, And Sometimes Shedding Its Skin, Like The Serpent That Is [the Doctors'] Symbol.

Canada, Having Few Indigenous Prejudices, Has Been Compelled To Import Them From Elsewhere, Duty-free, And It Is The Rare Canadian Who Is Not Shaken, At Some Time In The Year, By "old, Unhappy, Far-off Things / And Battles Long Ago", Like Wordsworth's Solitary Reaper. We Are A Nation Of Immigrants, And Not Happy In Our Minds.

My Curiosity Was In No Way Cruel. Deviations From The Commonplace Attracted Me Strongly, As They Still Do; And To Me The Hermaphrodite And The Living Skeleton Were Interesting For The Same Reason As Was Creatore, Or The Resplendent Guardsmen Of The Bands - Because Such People Did Not Often Come My Way, And I Hoped That They Might Impart Some Great Revelation To Me, Some Insight Which Would Help Me To A Clearer Understanding Of The World About Me.

Fiction Is Not Photography, It's Oil Painting.