Characters Must Not Brood Too Long. They

Death Destroys A Man, But The Idea Of Death Saves Him.

There Was Something Better In Life Than This Rub­bish, If Only He Could Get To It—love—nobility—big Spaces Where Passion Clasped Peace, Spaces No Science Could Reach, But They Existed For Ever, Full Of Woods Some Of Them, And Arched With Majestic Sky And A Friend. . .

Oxford Is Oxford: Not A Mere Receptacle For Youth, Like Cambridge. Perhaps It Wants Its Inmates To Love It Rather Than To Love One Another.

“it Is Fate That I Am Here,” Persisted George. “but You Can Call It Italy If It Makes You Less Unhappy.”

Chess Is A Forcing House Where The Fruits Of Character Can Ripen More Fully Than In Life