Only two classes of books are of universal appeal. The very best and the very worst.

Only two classes of books are of universal appeal. The very best and the very worst.

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.

Poetry is the impish attempt to paint the color of the wind.

The fashion of liking Racine will pass away like that of coffee.
[Fr., La mode d'aimer Racine passera comme read more

The fashion of liking Racine will pass away like that of coffee.
[Fr., La mode d'aimer Racine passera comme la mode du cafe.]

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"),

Everywhere I go, I'm asked if the universities stifle writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them.

Everywhere I go, I'm asked if the universities stifle writers. My opinion is that they don't stifle enough of them.

The republic of letters.
[Fr., La republique des lettres.]

The republic of letters.
[Fr., La republique des lettres.]

Good children's literature appeals not only to the child in the adult, but to the adult in the child.

Good children's literature appeals not only to the child in the adult, but to the adult in the child.

Literature for me isn't a workaday job, but something which involves desires, dreams and fantasy.

Literature for me isn't a workaday job, but something which involves desires, dreams and fantasy.

'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.