Our Pleasures In Literature Do Not, I

Wit Is Often Its Own Worst Enemy.

I Find The Love Of Garden Grows Upon Me As I Grow Older More And More. Shrubs And Flowers And Such Small Gay Things, That Bloom And Please And Fade And Wither And Are Gone And We Care Not For Them, Are Refreshing Interests, In Life, And If We Cannot Say Never Fading Pleasures, We May Say Unreproved Pleasures And Never Grieving Losses.

[on Collectors Of Quotations:] How Far Our Literature May In Future Suffer From These Blighting Swarms, Will Best Be Conceived By A Glance At What They Have Already Withered And Blasted Of The Favourite Productions Of Our Most Popular Poets.

Possessed, As Are All The Fair Daughters Of Eve, Of An Hereditary Propensity, Transmitted To Them Undiminished Through Succeeding Generations, To Be 'soonmoved Withtheslightesttouch Of Blame'; Very Little Precept And Practice Will Confirm Them In The Habit, And Instruct Them All The Maxims, Of Self-justification.

Obtain Power, Then, By All Means; Power Is The Law Of Man; Make It Yours.