'Humph!' grunted Mr. Romford, seeing his worst fears about to be realized. He had dreamt that he had timbled over a poodle in the drawing-room, and squirted a bottle of porter right into a lady's face. 'Who's goin' besides ourselves?' asked Romford, wishing to know the worst at once. 'Better be killed than frightened to death,' thought he. - Mr. Facey Romford's Hounds.
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One learns little more about a man from his feats of literary memory than from the feats of his alimentary read more
One learns little more about a man from his feats of literary memory than from the feats of his alimentary canal.
For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.
For whatever is truly wondrous and fearful in man, never yet was put into words or books.
Nothing but blackness aboveAnd nothing that moves but the cars...God, if you wish for our love,Fling us a handful of read more
Nothing but blackness aboveAnd nothing that moves but the cars...God, if you wish for our love,Fling us a handful of stars! - Caliban in the Coal Mines.
But, indeed, we prefer books to pounds; and we love manuscripts
better than florins; and we prefer small pamphlets read more
But, indeed, we prefer books to pounds; and we love manuscripts
better than florins; and we prefer small pamphlets to war horses.
It takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature.
It takes a great deal of history to produce a little literature.
There is no human reason why a child should not admire and emulate his teacher's ability to do sums, rather read more
There is no human reason why a child should not admire and emulate his teacher's ability to do sums, rather than the village bum's ability to whittle sticks and smoke cigarettes. The reason why the child does not is plain enough -- the bum has put himself on an equality with him and the teacher has not.
Time the great destroyer of other men's happiness, only enlarges
the patrimony of literature to its possessor.
Time the great destroyer of other men's happiness, only enlarges
the patrimony of literature to its possessor.
Beneath the rule of men entirely great, / The pen is mightier than the sword.
Beneath the rule of men entirely great, / The pen is mightier than the sword.
Writing is not a profession but a vocation of unhappiness.
Writing is not a profession but a vocation of unhappiness.
