Travel, Of Course, Narrows The Mind.

A Ready Means Of Being Cherished By The English Is To Adopt The Simple Expedient Of Living A Long Time. I Have Little Doubt That If, Say, Oscar Wilde Had Lived Into His Nineties, Instead Of Dying In His Forties, He Would Have Been Considered A Benign, Distinguished Figure Suitable To Preside At A School Prize-giving Or To Instruct And Exhort Scout Masters At Their Jamborees. He Might Even Have Been Knighted.

In The Cycle Of A Great Civilization, The Artist Begins As Priest, And Ends As A Clown Or Buffoon.

I Believe That The Visit Of The Queen To The United States Is An Admirable Occasion To Produce An Historical, Truthful, Sincere, Genuine Analysis Of How The British Monarchy Evolved Into Its Present Situation.

This Life In Us; However Low It Flickers Or Fiercely Burns, Is Still A Divine Flame Which No Man Dare Presume To Put Out, Be His Motives Never So Humane And Enlightened; To Suppose Otherwise Is To Countenance A Death-wish; Either Life Is Always And In All Circumstances Sacred, Or Intrinsically Of No Account; It Is Inconceivable That It Should Be In Some Cases The One, And In Some The Other.

I Am In A Slight Difficulty Because I Find Myself In A Minute Minority There, In That This Sputnik Didn't Either Interest Me Or Frighten Me, But That's Because I Don't, You See, Believe That The Circumstances Of Life Are The Important Thing.