Every Human Society Possesses A Mythology Which

Literature As A Whole Is Not An Aggregate Of Exhibits With Red And Blue Ribbons Attached To Them, Like A Cat-show, But The Range Of Articulate Human Imagination As It Extends From The Height Of Imaginative Heaven To The Depth Of Imaginative Hell.

Nobody Is Capable Of Of Free Speech Unless He Knows How To Use Language, And Such Knowledge Is Not A Gift: It Has To Learned And Worked At.

What If Criticism Is A Science As Well As An Art? Not A Pure Or Exact Science, Of Course, But These Phrases Belong To A Nineteenth-century Cosmology Which Is No Longer With Us.

The Simple Point Is That Literature Belongs To The World Man Constructs, Not To The World He Sees; To His Home, Not His Environment.

The Human Landscape Of The New World Shows A Conquest Of Nature By An Intelligence That Does Not Love It.