Little do such men know the toil, the pains, the daily, nightly racking of the brains, to range the thoughts, read more

Little do such men know the toil, the pains, the daily, nightly racking of the brains, to range the thoughts, the matter to digest, to cull fit phrases, and reject the rest.

The writer in western civilization has become not a voice of his tribe, but of his individuality. This is a read more

The writer in western civilization has become not a voice of his tribe, but of his individuality. This is a very narrow-minded situation.

English literature is a kind of training in social ethics. English trains you to handle a body of information in read more

English literature is a kind of training in social ethics. English trains you to handle a body of information in a way that is conducive to action.

In our day the conventional element in literature is elaborately disguised by a law of copyright pretending that every work read more

In our day the conventional element in literature is elaborately disguised by a law of copyright pretending that every work of art is an invention distinctive enough to be patented.

Perish those who said our good things before we did.

Perish those who said our good things before we did.

Poetry is at least an elegance and at most a revelation.

Poetry is at least an elegance and at most a revelation.

In literature as in ethics, there is danger, as well as glory, in being subtle. Aristocracy isolates us.

In literature as in ethics, there is danger, as well as glory, in being subtle. Aristocracy isolates us.

Writing is the only profession where no one considers you ridiculous if you earn no money.

Writing is the only profession where no one considers you ridiculous if you earn no money.

'Humph!' grunted Mr. Romford, seeing his worst fears about to be realized. He had dreamt that he had timbled over read more

'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.