It Is In His Pleasure That A

A Villain Must Be A Thing Of Power, Handled With Delicacy And Grace. He Must Be Wicked Enough To Excite Our Aversion, Strong Enough To Arouse Our Fear, Human Enough To Awaken Some Transient Gleam Of Sympathy. We Must Triumph In His Downfall, Yet Not Barbarously Nor With Contempt, And The Close Of His Career Must Be In Harmony With All Its Previous Development.

The Well-ordered Mind Knows The Value, No Less Than The Charm, Of Reticence. The Fruit Of The Tree Of Knowledge ... Falls Ripe From Its Stem; But Those Who Have Eaten With Sobriety Find No Need To Discuss The Processes Of Digestion.

Who That Has Plodded On To Middle Age Would Take Back Upon His Shoulders Ten Of The Vanished Years, With Their Mingled Pleasures And Pains? Who Would Return To The Youth He Is Forever Pretending To Regret?

There Is A Secret And Wholesome Conviction In The Heart Of Every Man Or Woman Who Has Written A Book That It Should Be No Easy Matter For An Intelligent Reader To Lay Down That Book Unfinished. There Is A Pardonable Impression Among Reviewers That Half An Hour In Its Company Is Sufficient.

It Is Because Of Our Unassailable Enthusiasm, Our Profound Reverence For Education, That We Habitually Demand Of It The Impossible. The Teacher Is Expected To Perform A Choice And Varied Series Of Miracles.