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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.
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.
They castrate the books of other men in order that with the fat of their works they may lard their read more
They castrate the books of other men in order that with the fat of their works they may lard their own lean volumes.
From the moment I picked your book up until I laid it down I was convulsed with laughter. Some day read more
From the moment I picked your book up until I laid it down I was convulsed with laughter. Some day I intend reading it.
Literature is mostly about sex and not much about having children; and life is the other way around.
Literature is mostly about sex and not much about having children; and life is the other way around.
There is first the literature of knowledge, and secondly, the
literature of power. The function of the first is--to read more
There is first the literature of knowledge, and secondly, the
literature of power. The function of the first is--to teach; the
function of the second is--to move, the first is a rudder, the
second an oar or a sail. The first speaks to the mere discursive
understanding; the second speaks ultimately, it may happen, to
the higher understanding or reason, but always through affections
of pleasure and sympathy.
- Thomas De Quincey ("The Opium Eater"),
. . . A man of the world amongst men of letters, a man of letters
amongst men of read more
. . . A man of the world amongst men of letters, a man of letters
amongst men of the world.
A poet in history is divine, but a poet in the next room is a joke.
A poet in history is divine, but a poet in the next room is a joke.
