All men should have a drop of treason in their veins, if nations are not to go soft like so many sleepy pears.

The mind is its own enemy, that fights itself with the innumerable pliant and ineluctable arms of the octopus.

The earth itself is slightly resistant to routine.

Literature must be an analysis of experience and a synthesis of the findings into a unity.

Woman too commonly commits the sin of self-sacrifice whereby she consents to be sequestered in the home, without intellectual stimulus, so that the tranquil flame of her unspoiled soul should radiate purity and nobility upon an indefinitely extended family.

Mr. Arnold Bennett feels he has ranked himself for ever as a dry wine by what he mixed with himself of Maupassant; nevertheless he has put on the market some grocer's Sauterne in the form of several novels that are highly sentimental so far as their fundamental balance of values is concerned.

Mr. James Joyce is a great man who is entirely without taste.