Doubt … Is An Illness That Comes

Through Small Apertures We Glimpse Abysses Whose Sombre Depths Turn Us Faint. And Yet Over The Whole There Hovers An Extraordinary Tenderness.

By Dint Of Railing At Idiots, One Runs The Risk Of Becoming An Idiot Oneself.

Let Us Not Kid Ourselves; Let Us Remember That Literature Is Of No Use Whatever, Except In The Very Special Case Of Somebody's Wishing To Become, Of All Things, A Professor Of Literature.

The Faster The Word Sticks To The Thought, The More Beautiful Is The Effect.

For Him The Universe Did Not Extend Beyond The Circumference Of Her Petticoat.