The Truly Great Books Are The Few

If You Never Ask Yourself Any Questions About The Meaning Of A Passage, You Cannot Expect The Book To Give You Any Insight You Do Not Already Possess.

Television, Radio, And All The Sources Of Amusement And Information That Surround Us In Our Daily Lives Are Also Artificial Props. They Can Give Us The Impression That Our Minds Are Active, Because We Are Required To React To Stimuli From The Outside. But The Power Of Those External Stimuli To Keep Us Going Is Limited. They Are Like Drugs. We Grow Used To Them, And We Continuously Need More And More Of Them. Eventually, They Have Little Or No Effect. Then, If We Lack Resources Within Ourselves, We Cease To Grow Intellectually, Morally, And Spiritually. And We We Cease To Grow, We Begin To Die.

We Wish The Joy Of Love, The Joy Of Companionship, Of Being In The Company Of, In The Presence Of The Person We Love, Of Living A Common Life With That Person, Perhaps Ultimately The Joy Of Perfect Union.

Imaginative Literature Primarily Pleases Rather Than Teaches. It Is Much Easier To Be Pleased Than Taught, But Much Harder To Know Why One Is Pleased. Beauty Is Harder To Analyze Than Truth.

Love Can Be Unselfish, In The Sense Of Being Benevolent And Generous, Without Being Selfless.