At Moments We Are All Artists.

Which Of Us Is Not Saying To Himself Which Of Us Has Not Been Saying To Himself All His Life: " I Shall Alter That When I Have A Little More Time"? We Never Shall Have Any More Time. We Have, And We Have Always Had, All The Time There Is.

Literature Exists So That Where One Man Has Lived Finely Ten Thousand May Afterward Live Finely

The Second Suggestion Is To Think As Well As To Read. I Know People Who Read And Read, And For All The Good It Does Them They Might Just As Well Cut Bread-and-butter. They Take To Reading As Better Men Take To Drink. They Fly Through The Shires Of Literature On A Motor-car, Their Sole Object Being Motion. They Will Tell You How Many Books They Have Read In A Year. Unless You Give At Least 45 Minutes To Careful, Fatiguing Reflection (it Is An Awful Bore At First) Upon What You Are Reading, Your 90 Minutes Of A Night Are Chiefly Wasted.

Saw Washington Monument. Phallic. Appalling. A National Catastrophe.

The Manner In Which One Single Ray Of Light, One Single Precious Hint, Will Clarify And Energize The Whole Mental Life Of Him Who Receives It, Is Among The Most Wonderful And Heavenly Of Intellectual Phenomena.