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.

Draw a crazy picture,Write a nutty poem,Sing a mumble-gumble song,Whistle through your comb.Do a loony-goony dance'Cross the kitchen floor,Put something read more

Draw a crazy picture,Write a nutty poem,Sing a mumble-gumble song,Whistle through your comb.Do a loony-goony dance'Cross the kitchen floor,Put something silly in the worldThat ain't been there before.

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.

Housework is a breeze. Cooking is a pleasant diversion. Putting up a retaining wall is a lark. But teaching is read more

Housework is a breeze. Cooking is a pleasant diversion. Putting up a retaining wall is a lark. But teaching is like climbing a mountain.

Arrogance, pedantry, and dogmatism... the occupational diseases of those who spend their lives directing the intellects of the young.

Arrogance, pedantry, and dogmatism... the occupational diseases of those who spend their lives directing the intellects of the young.

Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go read more

Till last by Philip's farm I flowTo join the brimming river,For men may come and men may go,But I go on for ever. - The Brook.

We cultivate literature on a little oat-meal.

We cultivate literature on a little oat-meal.

If thou shouldst never see my face again,Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayerThan this world dreams read more

If thou shouldst never see my face again,Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayerThan this world dreams of. - The Passing of Arthur.

Oh you who are born of the blood of the gods, Trojan son of Anchises, easy is the descent to read more

Oh you who are born of the blood of the gods, Trojan son of Anchises, easy is the descent to Hell; the door of dark Dis stands open day and night. But to retrace your steps and come out to the air above, that is work, that is labor! - Aeneid, The.