There Is No Nonsense So

Do Not Suppose, However, That I Intend To Urge A Diet Of Classics On Anybody. I Have Seen Such Diets At Work. I Have Known People Who Have Actually Read All, Or Almost All, The Guaranteed Hundred Best Books. God Save Us From Reading Nothing But The Best.

Literary Critics, However, Frequently Suffer From A Curious Belief That Every Author Longs To Extend The Boundaries Of Literary Art, Wants To Explore New Dimensions Of The Human Spirit, And If He Doesn't, He Should Be Ashamed Of Himself.

That's The Nub Of The Thing, You See Seriousness Of Spirit. It Doesn't Mean Heaviness Of Heart, Or A Lack Of Fantasy, But It Does Mean An Awareness Of Influences That Touch Our Lives, Sometimes In Ways That Seem Cruel And Unfeeling, And Sometimes In Ways That Open Up A Glory Which Can Never Be Forgotten.

This Is One Of The Cruelties Of The Theatre Of Life; We All Think Of Ourselves As Stars And Rarely Recognize It When We Are Indeed Mere Supporting Characters Or Even Supernumeraries.

Happiness Is Always A By-product. It Is Probably A Matter Of Temperament, And For Anything I Know It May Be Glandular.