Such days of autumnal decline hold a strange mystery which adds to the gravity of all our moods.
To believe everything is to be an imbecile.
To deny everything is to be a fool.
After owning books, almost the next best thing is talking about them.
Literature is the expression of society.
After the pleasure of possessing books there is hardly anything more pleasant than that of speaking of them, and of communicating to the public the innocent richness of thought which we have acquired by the culture of letters.
Our years, our debts, and our enemies are always more numerous than we imagine.
There is something marvelously soft in the study of nature which attaches a name to every being, a thought to every name, affection and memories to every thought.
But if what interests you are stories of the fantastic, I must warn you that this kind of story demands more art and judgment than is ordinarily imagined.
If you are alone, tell some stories to yourself. This is a different kind of pleasure and it has, indeed, its reward. I have tasted a little of everything, and I have truly never enjoyed anything more.
The winter will be long and bleak. Nature has a dismal aspect.
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