To Know One's Own Limitations Is The

Still, It Doesn't Do To Murder People, No Matter How Offensive They May Be.

The Making Of Miracles To Edification Was As Ardently Admired By Pious Victorians As It Was Sternly Discouraged By Jesus Of Nazareth. Not That The Victorians Were Unique In This Respect. Modern Writers Also Indulge In Edifying Miracles Though They Generally Prefer To Use Them To Procure Unhappy Endings, By Which Piece Of Thaumaturgy They Win The Title Of Realists.

However Entrancing It Is To Wander Unchecked Through A Garden Of Bright Images, Are We Not Enticing Your Mind From Another Subject Of Almost Equal Importance?

You're Thinking That People Don't Keep Up Old Jealousies For Twenty Years Or So. Perhaps Not. Not Just Primitive, Brute Jealousy. That Means A Word And A Blow. But The Thing That Rankles Is Hurt Vanity. That Sticks. Humiliation. And We've All Got A Sore Spot We Don't Like To Have Touched.

But Suppose One Doesn't Quite Know Which One Wants To Put First. Suppose," Said Harriet, Falling Back On Words Which Were Not Her Own, "suppose One Is Cursed With Both A Heart And A Brain?" "you Can Usually Tell," Said Miss De Vine, "by Seeing What Kind Of Mistakes You Make. I'm Quite Sure That One Never Makes Fundamental Mistakes About The Thing One Really Wants To Do. Fundamental Mistakes Arise Out Of Lack Of Genuine Interest. In My Opinion, That Is.