However You Disguise Novels, They Are Always

His Mind Was Crowded With Memories; Memories Of The Knowledge That Had Come To Them When They Closed In On The Struggling Pig, Knowledge That They Had Outwitted A Living Thing, Imposed Their Will Upon It, Taken Away Its Life Like A Long Satisfying Drink.

As Far As The Novel Is Concerned In My Own Country, I Think It's In A Pretty Healthy State.

The Skull Regarded Ralph Like One Who Knows All The Answers And Won't Tell.

Among The Virtues And Vices That Make Up The British Character, We Have One Vice, At Least, That Americans Ought To View With Sympathy. For They Appear To Be The Only People Who Share It With Us. I Mean Our Worship Of The Antique. I Do Not Refer To Beauty Or Even Historical Association. I Refer To Age, To A Quantity Of Years.

He Who Rides The Sea Of The Nile Must Have Sails Woven Of Patience.