What passing bells for these who die as cattle?Only the monstrous anger of the guns.Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattleCan read more

What passing bells for these who die as cattle?Only the monstrous anger of the guns.Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattleCan patter out their hasty orisons. - Anthem for Doomed Youth.

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.

To provoke dreams of terror in the slumber of prosperity has become the moral duty of literature.

To provoke dreams of terror in the slumber of prosperity has become the moral duty of literature.

The average Ph.D thesis is nothing but the transference of bones from one graveyard to another.

The average Ph.D thesis is nothing but the transference of bones from one graveyard to another.

The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While read more

The dancing pair that simply sought renown,By holding out to tire each other down;The swain mistrustless of his smutted face,While secret laughter titter'd round the place;The bashful virgin's side-long looks of love,The matrons glance that would those looks reprove:These were thy charms, sweet village; sports like these,With sweet succession, taught e'en toil to please;These were thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,These were thy charms -- but all these charms are fled. - Deserted Village, The.

The philosophy exam was a piece of cake -- which was a bit of a surprise, actually, because I was read more

The philosophy exam was a piece of cake -- which was a bit of a surprise, actually, because I was expecting some questions on a sheet of paper.

Books are humanity in print.

Books are humanity in print.

Five miles meandering with mazy motion, Through dale the sacred
river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, read more

Five miles meandering with mazy motion, Through dale the sacred
river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank
the tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard
from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!

All that non-fiction can do is answer questions. It's fiction's business to ask them.

All that non-fiction can do is answer questions. It's fiction's business to ask them.