You cannot depict love inside a frame of fact. It needs a mist to dissolve in.
The English are terribly lazy about fighting. They like to get it over and done with and then set up a game of cricket.
The landlady of a boarding-house is a parallelogram - that is, an oblong angular figure, which cannot be described, but which is equal to anything
In point of morals, the average woman is, even for business, too crooked.
How can you shorten the subject? That stern struggle with the multiplication table, for many people not yet ended in victory, how can you make it less? Square root, as obdurate as a hardwood stump in a pasturenothing but years of effort can extract it. You can't hurry the process. Or pass from arithmetic to algebra; you can't shoulder your way past quadratic equations or ripple through the binomial theorem. Instead, the other way; your feet are impeded in the tangled growth, your pace slackens, you sink and fall somewhere near the binomial theorem with the calculus in sight on the horizon.
As for politics, well, it all seemed reasonable enough. When the Conservatives got in anywhere, [Judge] Pepperleigh laughed and enjoyed it, simply because it does one good to see a straight, fine, honest fight where the best man wins. When a Liberal got in, it made him mad, and he said so,-not, mind you; from any political bias, for his office forbid it,-but simply because one can't bear to see the country go absolutely to the devil.
Modern critics, who refuse to let a plain thing alone, have now started a theory that Cervantes's work is a vast piece of "symbolism." If so, Cervantes didn't know it himself and nobody thought of it for three hundred years. He meant it as a satire upon the silly romances of chivalry.
What we call creative work, ought not to be called work at all, because it isn't. I imagine that Thomas Edison never did a day's work in his last fifty years.
A sportsman is a man who, every now and then, simply has to get out and kill something.
Men are able to trust one another, knowing the exact degree of dishonesty they are entitled to expect.
I am what is called a professor emeritus—from the Latin e, 'out,' and meritus, 'so he ought to be.
Charles Dickens' creation of Mr. Pickwick did more for the elevation of the human race - I say it in all seriousness - than Cardinal Newman's Lead Kindly Light Amid the Encircling Gloom. Newman only cried out for light in the gloom of a sad world. Dickens gave it.
The classics are only primitive literature. They belong to the same class as primitive machinery and primitive music and primitive medicine.
The writing of solid, instructive stuff fortified by facts and figures is easy enough. There is no trouble in writing a scientific treatise on the folk-lore of Central China, or a statistical enquiry into the declining population of Prince Edward Island. But to write something out of one's own mind, worth reading for its own sake, is an arduous contrivance only to be achieved in fortunate moments, few and far in between. Personally, I would sooner have written Alice in Wonderland than the whole Encyclopedia Britannica.
Each section of the British Isles has its own way of laughing, except Wales, which doesn't.
The Compleat Angler is acknowledged to be one of the world's books. Only the trouble is that the world doesn't read its books, it borrows a detective story instead.
Humour in its highest reach mingles with pathos: it voices sorrow for our human lot and reconciliation with it.
Humor may be defined as the kindly contemplation of the incongruities of life, and the artistic expression thereof.
The attempt to make the consumption of beer criminal is as silly and as futile as if you passed a law to send a man to jail for eating cucumber salad.
Golf may be played on Sunday, not being a game within the view of the law, but being a form of moral effort.
There is no doubt that many things in life come to us...at backrounds so to speak. Happiness is one of them.
When actors begin to think, it's time for a change. They are not fitted for it.
Chess is one long regret.
If every day in the life of a school could be the last day but one, there would be little fault to find with it.
The tears of childhood fall fast and easily, and evil be to him who makes them flow.
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