Every Misused Word Revenges Itself Forever Upon

It Is Not The Office Of A Novelist To Show Us How To Behave Ourselves; It Is Not The Business Of Fiction To Teach Us Anything.

Conversation In Its Happiest Development Is A Link, Equally Exquisite And Adequate, Between Mind And Mind, A System By Which Men Approach One Another With Sympathy And Enjoyment, A Field For The Finest Amenities Of Civilization, For The Keenest And Most Intelligent Display Of Social Activity. It Is Also Our Solace, Our Inspiration, And Our Most Rational Pleasure. It Is A Duty We Owe To One Another; It Is Our Common Debt To Humanity.

Just As We Are Often Moved To Merriment For No Other Reason Than That The Occasion Calls For Seriousness, So We Are Correspondingly Serious When Invited Too Freely To Be Amused.

The Pleasure Of Possession, Whether We Possess Trinkets, Or Offspring - Or Possibly Books, Or Prints, Or Chessmen, Or Postage Stamps - Lies In Showing These Things To Friends Who Are Experiencing No Immediate Urge To Look At Them.

Men Who Believe That, Through Some Exceptional Grace Or Good Fortune, They Have Found God, Feel Little Need Of Culture.