Criticism, that fine flower of personal expression in the garden of letters.

Lights of ships moved in the fairway-a great stir of lights going up and going down. And farther west on the upper reaches the place of the monstrous town was still marked ominously on the sky, a brooding gloom in sunshine, a lurid glare under the stars.

Action is consolatory. It is the enemy of thought and the friend of flattering illusions.

Happiness, happiness ... the flavor is with you-with you alone, and you can make it as intoxicating as you please.

Words, as is well known, are the great foes of reality. I have been for many years a teacher of languages. It is an occupation which at length becomes fatal to whatever share of imagination, observation, and insight an ordinary person may be heir to. To a teacher of languages there comes a time when the world is but a place of many words and man appears a mere talking animal not much more wonderful than a parrot.

Follow your bliss. Find where it is and don't be afraid to follow it.

Vanity plays lurid tricks with our memory.