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That Was What Stuck In The Craws Of All The Good Women Of Deptford: Mrs Dempster Had Not Been Raped, As A Decent Woman Would Have Been-no, She Had Yielded Because A Man Wanted Her. The Subject Was Not One That Could Be Freely Discussed Even Among Intimates, But It Was Understood Without Saying That If Women Began To Yield For Such Reasons As That, Marriage And Society Would Not Last Long. Any Man Who Spoke Up For Mrs Dempster Probably Believed In Free Love. Certainly He Associated Sex With Pleasure, And That Put Him In A Class With Filthy Thinkers Like Cece Athelstan.

-Robertson Davies

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That Was What Stuck

Robertson Davies

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That Was What Stuck In The Craws Of All The Good Women Of Deptford: Mrs Dempster Had Not Been Raped, As A Decent Woman Would Have Been-no, She Had Yielded Because A Man Wanted Her. The Subject Was Not One That Could Be Freely Discussed Even Among Intimates, But It Was Understood Without Saying That If Women Began To Yield For Such Reasons As That, Marriage And Society Would Not Last Long. Any Man Who Spoke Up For Mrs Dempster Probably Believed In Free Love. Certainly He Associated Sex With Pleasure, And That Put Him In A Class With Filthy Thinkers Like Cece Athelstan.

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All Art Is Holy. Not That It Is All Long-faced And Miserable; It Can Be Wild And Wooly. But If It Transforms You, It Is Art. And It Is Holy.

Comparatively Few People Know What A Million Dollars Actually Is. To The Majority It Is A Gaseous Concept, Swelling Or Decreasing As The Occasion Suggests.

If You Don't Hurry Up And Let Life Know What You Want, Life Will Damned Soon Show You What You'll Get.

Women Tell Men Things That Men Are Not Very Likely To Find Out For Themselves.

People Are Not Saints Just Because They Haven't Got Much Money Or Education.

If I Had My Way Books Would Not Be Written In English, But In An Exceedingly Difficult Secret Language That Only Skilled Professional Readers And Story-tellers Could Interpret. Then People Would Have To Go To Public Halls And Pay Good Prices To Hear. . .

Never Harbor Grudges; They Sour Your Stomach And Do No Harm To Anyone Else.

Anybody Who Has Had Experience Of Poetesses Knows That They May Forgive A Punch On The Jaw, But Never A Suggestion That They Would Be Wiser To Give Up Versifying.

May I Make A Suggestion, Hoping It Is Not An Impertinence? Write It Down: Write Down What You Feel. It Is Sometimes A Wonderful Help In Misery.

Every Man Makes His Own Summer. The Season Has No Character Of Its Own, Unless One Is A Farmer With A Professional Concern For The Weather.

If You're Going To Do Something That Looks Evil, Don't Smear It With Icing And Pretend It's Good; Just Bloody Well Do It And Keep Your Eyes Peeled.

They're All So Highly Educated, You Know. Education Is A Great Shield Against Experience. It Offers So Much, Ready-made And All From The Best Shops, That There's A Temptation To Miss Your Own Life In Pursuing The Lives Of Your Betters. It Makes You Wise In Some Ways, But It Can Make You A Blindfolded Fool In Others.

We Mistrust Anything That Too Strongly Challenges Our Ideal Of Mediocrity.

Many A Promising Career Has Been Wrecked By Marrying The Wrong Sort Of Woman.

No People In The World Can Make You Feel So Small As The English.

The First Principle, When You Don't Know Anything About The Subject Of A Thesis, Is To Let The Candidate Talk, Nodding Now And Then With An Ambiguous Smile. He Thinks You Know, And Are Counting His Mistakes, And It Unnerves Him... The Second Principle Of Conducting An Oral, ... Is To Pretend Ignorance, And Ask For Explanations Of Very Simple Points. Of Course Your Ignorance Is Real, But The Examinee Thinks You Are Being Subtle, And That He Is Making An Ass Of Himself, And This Rattles Him.

Clarity Is Not A Characteristic Of The Human Spirit.

Characteristics

Canada Has One Of The Highest Rates Of Insanity In Any Civilized Country And One Reason Might Be That Life In Many Places Is So Desperately Dull.

Marriage Is A Framework To Preserve Friendship. It Is Valuable Because It Gives Much More Room To Develop Than Just Living Together. It Provides A Base From Which A Person Can Work At Understanding Himself And Another Person.

The Book Forces Itself Into My Mind When I Am Lugging Furniture, Or Pulling Weeds.

The Best Among Our Writers Are Doing Their Accustomed Work Of Mirroring What Is Deep In The Spirit Of Our Time; If Chaos Appears In Those Mirrors, We Must Have Faith That In The Future, As Always In The Past, That Chaos Will Slowly Reveal Itself As A New Aspect Of Order.

I Have No Skills With Machines. I Fear Them, And Because I Cannot Help Attributing Human Qualities To Them, I Suspect That They Hate Me And Will Kill Me If They Can.

If I Had My Way Books Would Not Be Written In English But In An Exceedingly Difficult Secret Language.... This Plan Would Have The Advantage Of Scaring Off All Amateur Authors, Retired Politicians, Country Doctors...who Would Not Have The Patience To Learn The Secret Language.

I Am Constantly Astonished By The People, Otherwise Intelligent, Who Think That Anything So Complex And Delicate As A Marriage Can Be Left To Take Care Of Itself. One Sees Them Fussing About All Sorts Of Lesser Concerns, Apparently Unaware That Side By Side With Them Often In The Same Bed A Human Creature Is Perishing From Lack Of Affection, Of Emotional Malnutrition.

In My Collection, To Me At Least, The Theatre Of The Past Lives Again And Those Long-dead Playwrights And Actors Have In Me An Enthralled Audience Of One, And I Applaud Them Across The Centuries.

Audience Of One

No, It's The Musicians And I Must Say They Are An Accomplished Bunch, But Odd, As Musicians Tend To Be. Is It The Vibration From Their Instruments, Do You Suppose, Working On The Brain? All That Fraught Buzzing?

A Librettist Is A Mere Drudge In The World Of Opera.

We Have Educated Ourselves Into A World From Which Wonder, And He Fear And Dread And Splendor And Freedom Of Wonder Have Been Banished. Of Course Wonder Is Costly. You Couldn't Incorporate It Into A Modern State, Beacuse It Is The Antithesis Of The Anxiously Worshiped Security Which Is What A Modern State Is Asked To Give. Wonder Is Marvellous But It Is Also Cruel, Cruel, Cruel. It Is Undemocratic, Discriminatory And Pitiless.

The Most Original Thing A Writer Can Do Is Write Like Himself. It Is Also His Most Difficult Task.

That Was What Stuck In The Craws Of All The Good Women Of Deptford: Mrs Dempster Had Not Been Raped, As A Decent Woman Would Have Been-no, She Had Yielded Because A Man Wanted Her. The Subject Was Not One That Could Be Freely Discussed Even Among Intimates, But It Was Understood Without Saying That If Women Began To Yield For Such Reasons As That, Marriage And Society Would Not Last Long. Any Man Who Spoke Up For Mrs Dempster Probably Believed In Free Love. Certainly He Associated Sex With Pleasure, And That Put Him In A Class With Filthy Thinkers Like Cece Athelstan.

My Curiosity Was In No Way Cruel. Deviations From The Commonplace Attracted Me Strongly, As They Still Do; And To Me The Hermaphrodite And The Living Skeleton Were Interesting For The Same Reason As Was Creatore, Or The Resplendent Guardsmen Of The Bands - Because Such People Did Not Often Come My Way, And I Hoped That They Might Impart Some Great Revelation To Me, Some Insight Which Would Help Me To A Clearer Understanding Of The World About Me.

"children, Don't Speak So Coarsely," Said Mr Webster, Who Had A Vague Notion That Some Supervision Should Be Exercised Over His Daughters' Speech, And That A Line Should Be Drawn, But Never Knew Quite When To Draw It. He Had Allowed His Daughters To Use His Library Without Restraint, And Nothing Is More Fatal To Maidenly Delicacy Of Speech Than The Run Of A Good Library.

I Do Not 'get' Ideas; Ideas Get Me

What We Call Luck Is The Inner Man Externalized. We Make Things Happen To Us.

The Clerisy Are Those Who Read For Pleasure, But Not For Idleness; Who Read For Pastime But Not To Kill Time; Who Love Books, But Do Not Live By Books

In My Experience Tact Is Usually Worse Than The Brutalities Of Truth.

It Is Lost, Lovely Child, Somewhere In The Ragbag That I Laughingly Refer To As My Memory.

Happiness Is Always A By-product. It Is Probably A Matter Of Temperament, And For Anything I Know It May Be Glandular.

"civilization Rests On Two Things," Said Hitzig; "the Discovery That Fermentation Produces Alcohol, And Voluntary Ability To Inhibit Defecation. And I Put It To You, Where Would This Splendidly Civilized Occasion Be Without Both?"

Art Is Wine And Experience Is The Brandy We Distill From It.

Canada Is Not Really A Place Where You Are Encouraged To Have Large Spiritual Adventures.

If We Seek The Pleasures Of Love, Passion Should Be Occasional, And Common Sense Continual.

The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name Has Become The Love That Won't Shut Up.

Book Lovers Are Thought By Unbookish People To Be Gentle And Unworldly, And Perhaps A Few Of Them Are So. But There Are Others Who Will Lie And Scheme And Steal To Get Books As Wildly And Unconscionably As The Dope-taker In Pursuit Of His Drug. They May Not Want The Books To Read Immediately, Or At All; They Want Them To Possess, To Range On Their Shelves, To Have At Command. They Want Books As A Turk Is Thought To Want Concubines - Not To Be Hastily Deflowered, But To Be Kept At Their Master's Call, And Enjoyed More Often In Thought Than In Reality.

Canada, Having Few Indigenous Prejudices, Has Been Compelled To Import Them From Elsewhere, Duty-free, And It Is The Rare Canadian Who Is Not Shaken, At Some Time In The Year, By "old, Unhappy, Far-off Things / And Battles Long Ago", Like Wordsworth's Solitary Reaper. We Are A Nation Of Immigrants, And Not Happy In Our Minds.

The Division Between Art And Deviousness And Crime Is Sometimes As Thin As A Cigarette Paper.

The Wit Of A Graduate Student Is Like Champagne. Canadian Champagne.

The World Is Full Of People Whose Notion Of A Satisfactory Future Is, In Fact, A Return To The Idealized Past.

Students Today Are A Pretty Solemn Lot. One Of The Really Notable Achievements Of The Twentieth Century Has Been To Make The Young Old Before Their Time.

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Computers Will Have To Learn That When I Quote From Some Old Author Who Spelled Differently From The Machine, The Wishes Of The Long-dead Author Will Have To Be Respected, And The Machine Will Have To Mind Its Manners

A Happy Childhood Has Spoiled Many A Promising Life.

To Be A Book-collector Is To Combine The Worst Characteristics Of A Dope Fiend With Those Of A Miser.

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Extraordinary People Survive Under The Most Terrible Circumstances And They Become More Extraordinary Because Of It.

Ordinary Extraordinary

The Pleasures Of Love Are For Those Who Are Hopelessly Addicted To Another Living Creature.

Living Creatures

It Is Not Always Easy To Diagnose. The Simplest Form Of Stupidity - The Mumbling, Nose-picking, Stolid Incomprehension - Can Be Detected By Anyone. But The Stupidity Which Disguises Itself As Thought, And Which Talks So Glibly And Eloquently, Indeed Never Stops Talking, In Every Walk Of Life Is Not So Easy To Identify, Because It Marches Under A Formidable Name, Which Few Dare Attack. It Is Called Popular Opinion.

The Greatest Gift That Oxford Gives Her Sons Is, I Truly Believe, A Genial Irreverence Toward Learning, And From That Irreverence Love May Spring.

All Real Fantasy Is Serious. Only Faked Fantasy Is Not Serious. That Is Why It Is So Wrong To Impose Faked Fantasy On Children.

I Came At Last To A Recognition Of Myself As, In Part, A Tom Sawyer Who Wanted Everything Done According To The Rules Of Romantic Fiction, And Complicated Simple Solutions With His Absurd Adolescent, Book-born Nonsense.

Though Thousands Of People Indulge Themselves In It Regularly, And Even Develop A Taste For It, There Is No Doubt In My Mind (and That Of Scientists Whom I Employ To Prove It) That Work Is A Dangerous And Destructive Drug, And Should Be Called By Its Right Name, Which Is Fatigue.

She Has Been Kissed As Often As A Police-court Bible, And By Much The Same Class Of People.

He Was A Genius - That Is To Say, A Man Who Does Superlatively And Without Obvious Effort Something That Most People Cannot Do By The Uttermost Exertion Of Their Abilities.

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The Average Politician Goes Through A Sentence Like A Man Exploring A Disused Mine Shaft-blind, Groping, Timorous And In Imminent Danger Of Cracking His Shins On A Subordinate Clause Or A Nasty Bit Of Subjunctive.

No One Needs A Word Processor If He Has An Efficient Secretary.

If You Attack Stupidity You Attack An Entrenched Interest With Friends In Government And Every Walk Of Public Life.

When Irony First Makes Itself Known In A Young Man's Life, It Can Be Like His First Experience Of Getting Drunk; He Has Met With A Powerful Thing Which He Does Not Know How To Handle.

Conversation In Its True Meaning Isn't All Wagging The Tongue; Sometimes It Is A Deeply Shared Silence.

When One Is Traveling, One Must Expect To Spend A Certain Amount Of Money Foolishly.

The Nature Of Happiness Is Such That Happiness Retreats The More Intensely You Pursue It.

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The Us, For Historical Reasons, Mistrusts The Concept Of A Welfare State, And This Mistrust Shows Itself Nakedly Under Present Us Government, Which Commits Uncounted Billions Of The National Wealth To What It Calls Defence, And Is Close-fisted In Giving Money To Plans Which Would Ameliorate The Grinding Poverty Of A Great Part Of Its People. Quite Simply, In Canada You Could Not Get Away With That.

A Great Many Complimentary Things Have Been Said About The Faculty Of Memory, And If You Look In A Good Quotation Book You Will Find Them Neatly Arranged.

I Was Not Sure I Wanted To Issue Orders To Life; I Rather Liked The Greek Notion Of Allowing Chance To Take A Formative Hand In My Affairs.

A Man Who Recognizes No God Is Probably Placing An Inordinate Value On Himself.

Their Very Conservatism Is Secondhand, And They Don't Know What They Are Conserving.

The Ideal Companion In Bed Is A Good Book.

If You Are Not Happy You Had Better Stop Worrying About It And See What Treasures You Can Pluck From Your Own Brand Of Unhappiness.

Aristocrats Need Not Be Rich, But They Must Be Free, And In The Modern World Freedom Grows Rarer The More We Prate About It.

This Is The Great Theatre Of Life. Admission Is Free, But The Taxation Is Mortal. You Come When You Can, And Leave When You Must. The Show Is Continuous. Goodnight.

It Is Odd How All Men Develop The Notion, As They Grow Older, That Their Mothers Were Wonderful Cooks. I Have Yet To Meet A Man Who Will Admit That His Mother Was A Kitchen Assassin And Nearly Poisoned Him.

The Pleasures Of Love Are For Those Who Are Hopelessly Addicted To Another Living Creature. The Reasons For Such Addiction Are So Many That I Suspect They Are Never The Same In Any Two Cases. It Includes Passion But Does Not Survive By Passion; It Has Its Whiffs Of The Agreeable Vertigo Of Young Love, But It Is Stable More Often Than Dizzy; It Is A Growing, Changing Thing, And It Is Tactful Enough To Give The Addicted Parties Occasional Rests From Strong And Exhausting Feeling Of Any Kind.

I Think A Lot Of People Have Unreasonable Expectations Because They Never Stop To Consider What Life Actually Has To Offer Them. They're Always Looking For Some Great Epiphany From The Skies. They Never Stop To Consider The Fact Which Human Beings Find Hardest To Recognize: "maybe I'm Not Worthy Of An Epiphany.

Happiness Is Always A By-product. It Is Probably A Matter Of Temperament, And For Anything I Know It May Be Glandular. But It Is Not Something That Can Be Demanded From Life, And If You Are Not Happy You Had Better Stop Worrying About It And See What Treasures You Can Pluck From Your Own Brand Of Unhappiness.

That Is The Operatic Problem; The Singer Must Keep Up A Big Head Of Steam While Trying To Appear Secretive, Or Seductive, Or Consumptive. Some Ingenious Composer Should Write An Opera About A Group Of People Who Were Condemned By A Cruel God To Scream All The Time; It Would Be An Instantaneous Success, And A Triumph Of Versimilitude.

Love Affairs Are For Emotional Sprinters; The Pleasures Of Love Are For The Emotional Marathoners.

Great Drama, Drama That May Reach The Alchemical Level, Must Have Dimension And Its Relevance Will Take Care Of Itself. Writing About Aids Rather Than The Cocktail Set, Or Possibly The Fairy Kingdom, Will Not Guarantee Importance. . . . The Old Comment That All Periods Of Time Are At An Equal Distance From Eternity Says Much, And Pondering On It Will Lead To Alchemical Theatre While Relevance Becomes Old Hat.

There Are Times When I Think That The Reading I Have Done In The Past Has Had No Effect Except To Cloud My Mind And Make Me Indecisive

I Saw Corpses, And Grew Used To Their Unimportant Look, For A Dead Man Without Any Of The Panoply Of Death Is A Desperately Insignificant Object.

The Critic Is The Duenna In The Passionate Affair Between Playwrights, Actors And Audiences - A Figure Dreaded, And Occasionally Comic, But Never Welcome, Never Loved.

In The End, It Is Upon The Quality And Commitment Of Individuals That All Group Movements Depend.

My Dear Fellow, My Whole Life Is Moved By The Principle That The One Thing Which Is More Important Than Peace Is Music. It Is Because I Believe That I Am Poor.

The Alexander Technique Keeps The Body Alive, At Ages When Many People Have Resigned Themselves To Irreversible Decline.

There Is Absolutely No Point In Sitting Down To Write A Book Unless You Feel That You Must Write That Book, Or Else Go Mad, Or Die.

Every Man Is Wise When Attacked By A Mad Dog; Fewer When Pursued By A Mad Woman; Only The Wisest Survive When Attacked By A Mad Notion.

If A Man Wants To Be Of The Greatest Possible Value To His Fellow-creature S Let Him Begin The Long, Solitary Task Of Perfecting Himself.

A Library Goes On As Far As Thought Can Reach.

Pessimism Is A Very Easy Way Out Because It Is A Short View Of Life. If You Look At What Is Happening Around Us Today, You Can't Help But Feel That Life Is A Terrible Complexity Of Problems. But If You Look Back A Few Thousand Years, You Realize That We Have Advanced Fantastically. If You Take A Long View, I Do Not See How You Can Be Pessimistic About The Future Of Mankind.

Only In The Theatre Was It Possible To See The Performers And To Be Warmed By Their Personal Charm, To Respond To Their Efforts And To Feel Their Response To The Applause And Appreciative Laughter Of The Audience. It Had An Intimate Quality; Audience And Actors Conspired To Make A Little Oasis Of Happiness And Mirth Within The Walls Of The Theatre. Try As We Will, We Cannot Be Intimate With A Shadow On A Screen, Nor A Voice From A Box.

Did You Know That Puritanism Went Hand In Hand With Dirt, That Oliver Cromwell Put A 100 Per Cent Tax On Soap And That The Repeal Of The Soap Tax Was One Of The Most Popular Acts Of Charles Ii At His Restoration?

And Why Should It Not Be Terrifying? A Little Terror, In My View, Is Good For The Soul, When It Is Terror In The Face Of A Noble Object.

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Moderation, The Golden Mean, The Aristonmetron, Is The Secret Of Wisdom And Of Happiness. But It Does Not Mean Embracing An Unadventurous Mediocrity; Rather It Is An Elaborate Balancing Act, A Feat Of Intellectual Skill Demanding Constant Vigilance. Its Aim Is A Reconciliation Of Opposites.

Be Sure To Choose What You Believe And Why You Believe It, Because If You Don't Choose Your Beliefs, You May Be Certain That Some Belief, And Probably Not A Very Credible One, Will Choose You.

I Never Heard Of Anyone Who Was Really Literate Or Who Ever Really Loved Books Who Wanted To Suppress Any Of Them.

I Just Am A Canadian. It Is Not A Thing Which You Can Escape From. It Is Like Having Blue Eyes

Our Forebears Are Deserving Of Tribute For One Indisputable Reason, If For No Other: Without Them We Should Not Be Here. Let Us Recognize That We Are Not The Ultimate Triumph But Rather We Are Beads On A String. Let Us Behave With Decency To The Beads That Were Strung Before Us And Hope Modestly That The Beads That Come After Us Will Not Hold Us Of No Account Simply Because We Are Dead.

In India It Is Regarded As A Good Idea To Dart In Front Of An Oncoming Car, For The Car Is Sure To Kill The Evil Spirits Who Are Pursuing You, And All The Rest Of Your Life You Will Have Good Luck.

The Egotist Is All Surface; Underneath Is A Pulpy Mess And A Lot Of Self-doubt. But The Egoist May Be Yielding And Even Deferential In Things He Doesn't Consider Important; In Anything That Touches His Core He Is Remorseless.

You're All Mad For Words. Words Are Just Farts From A Lot Of Fools Who Have Swallowed Too Many Books. Give Me Things!

He Types His Labored Column - Weary Drudge! Senile Fudge And Solemn: Spare, Editor, To Condemn These Dry Leaves Of His Autumn.

I Think Of The Author As Somebody Who Goes Into The Marketplace And Puts Down His Rug And Says, 'i Will Tell You A Story' And Then He Passes The Hat.

It Is Those Pent-up, Craving Children Who Make All The Wars And All The Horrors And All The Art And All The Beauty And Discovery In Life, Because They Are Trying To Achieve What Lay Beyond Their Grasp Before They Were Five Years Old.

Female Beauty Is An Important Minor Sacrament Which Cannot Be Received Too Often; I Am Not At All Sure That Neglect Of It Does Not Constitute A Sin Of Some Kind.

Canada Was Settled, In The Main, By People With A Lower Middle-class Outlook, And A Respect, Rather Than An Affectionate Familiarity, For The Things Of The Mind.

The Great Book For You Is The Book That Has The Most To Say To You At The Moment When You Are Reading. I Do Not Mean The Book That Is Most Instructive, But The Book That Feeds Your Spirit. And That Depends On Your Age, Your Experience, Your Psychological And Spiritual Need.

I Think We're Living In An Age Which Despises Humanity And Despises Bravery And Doesn't Need Bravery Because Modern Warfare Has Rather Gone Beyond Bravery. It Is A Kind Of Warfare Where People Are Fighting Enemies They Never See, Killing People Of Whom They Know Nothing.

Like It Or Not, To Reach Middle Age With Less Money Or Less Prestige Than Our Father Had Is Somewhat To Lose Face. Stupid Of Course, When Put Like That, But Who Is Prepared To Argue That We Are Not Stupid In Several Important Ways?

And I Say To You That If You Bring Curiosity To Your Work It Will Cease To Be Merely A Job And Become A Door Through Which You Enter The Best That Life Has To Give You.

I See Canada As A Country Torn Between A Very Northern, Rather Extraordinary, Mystical Spirit Which It Fears And Its Desire To Present Itself To The World As A Scotch Banker.

You Never See What You Want To See, Forever Playing To The Gallery.

There Can Be No Doubt That Samuel Marchbanks Is One Of The Choice And Master Spirits Of This Age. If There Were Such A Volume As Who Really Ought To Be Who His Entry Would Require Several Pages.

The Inert Mind Is A Greater Danger Than The Inert Body, For It Overlays And Stifles The Desire To Live.

The Young Are Often Accused Of Exaggerating Their Troubles; They Do So, Very Often, In The Hope Of Making Some Impression Upon The Inertia And The Immovability Of The Selfish Old.

I Don't Suppose God Laughs At The People Who Think He Doesn't Exist. He's Above Jokes. But The Devil Isn't. That's One Of His Most Endearing Qualities.

I Was Afraid And Did Not Know What I Feared, Which Is The Worst Kind Of Fear.

Only A Fool Expects To Be Happy All The Time.

You Would Not Serve Junk Food At A Banquet, And Your Book Must Be A Banquet. Get Your Language From Swift, Not From Shopsy's.

One Can Always Tell It's Summer When One Sees School Teachers Hanging About The Streets Idly, Looking Like Cannibals During A Shortage Of Missionaries.

One Learns One’s Mystery At The Price Of One’s Innocence.

Energy And Curiosity Are The Lifeblood Of Universities; The Desire To Find Out, To Uncover, To Dig Deeper, To Puzzle Out Obscurities, Is The Spirit Of The University, And It Is A Channelling Of That Unresting Curiosity That Holds Mankind Together.

The Women We Really Love Are The Women Who Complete Us, Who Have The Qualities We Can Borrow And So Become Something Nearer To Whole Men. Just As We Complete Them, Of Course; It’s Not A One-way Thing. Leola And I, When Romance Was Stripped Away, Were Too Much Alike; Our Strengths And Weaknesses Were Too Nearly The Same. Together We Would Have Doubled Our Gains And Our Losses, But That Isn’t What Love Is.

Nothing Grows Old-fashioned So Fast As Modernity.

Oho, Now I Know What You Are. You Are An Advocate Of Useful Knowledge.... Well, Allow Me To Introduce Myself To You As An Advocate Of Ornamental Knowledge. You Like The Mind To Be A Neat Machine, Equipped To Work Efficiently, If Narrowly, And With No Extra Bits Or Useless Parts. I Like The Mind To Be A Dustbin Of Scraps Of Brilliant Fabric, Odd Gems, Worthless But Fascinating Curiosities, Tinsel, Quaint Bits Of Carving, And A Reasonable Amount Of Healthy Dirt. Shake The Machine And It Goes Out Of Order; Shake The Dustbin And It Adjusts Itself Beautifully To Its New Position.

Fanaticism Is Overcompensation For Doubt.

Few People Can See Genius In Someone Who Has Offended Them.

I Don't Think I Would Ever Write A Book With What Anybody Could Call Pornography In It, Because I Feel That Pornography Is A Cheat. It Is An Attempt To Provide Sexual Experience By Secondhand Means. Now Sex Is A Thing Which Has To Be Experienced Firsthand, If You Are Really Going To Understand It, And Pornography Is Rather Like Trying To Find Out About A Beethoven Symphony By Having Somebody Tell You About It And Perhaps Hum A Few Bars. It's Not The Same Thing. Sex Is Primarily A Question Of Relationships. Pornography Is A Do-it-yourself Kit--a Twenty-second Best.

The Eye Sees Only What The Mind Is Prepared To Comprehend.

Although I Am Almost Illiterate Mathematically, I Grasped Very Early In Life That Any One Who Can Count To Ten Can Count Upward Indefinitely If He Is Fool Enough To Do So.

Women Always Think That If They Tell A Man Not To Be Pompous That Will Shut Him Up, But I Am An Old Hand At That Game. I Know That If A Man Bides His Time His Moment Will Come.

Literary Critics, However, Frequently Suffer From A Curious Belief That Every Author Longs To Extend The Boundaries Of Literary Art, Wants To Explore New Dimensions Of The Human Spirit, And If He Doesn't, He Should Be Ashamed Of Himself.

But As A Skeptic I Am Dubious About Science As About Everything Else, Unless The Scientist Is Himself A Skeptic, And Few Of Them Are. The Stench Of Formaldehyde May Be As Potent As The Whiff Of Incense In Stimulating A Naturally Idolatrous Understanding.

After All, We Are Human Beings, And Not Creatures Of Infinite Possibilities.

That's The Nub Of The Thing, You See Seriousness Of Spirit. It Doesn't Mean Heaviness Of Heart, Or A Lack Of Fantasy, But It Does Mean An Awareness Of Influences That Touch Our Lives, Sometimes In Ways That Seem Cruel And Unfeeling, And Sometimes In Ways That Open Up A Glory Which Can Never Be Forgotten.

I Never Heard Of Anyone Who Was Really Literate Or Who Ever Really Loved Books Who Wanted To Suppress Any Of Them. Censors Only Read A Book With Great Difficulty, Moving Their Lips As They Puzzle Out Each Syllable, When Someone Tells Them That The Book Is Unfit To Read.

This Is One Of The Cruelties Of The Theatre Of Life; We All Think Of Ourselves As Stars And Rarely Recognize It When We Are Indeed Mere Supporting Characters Or Even Supernumeraries.

The Love Of Truth Lies At The Root Of Much Humor.

Several Children Present Me With Scraps Of Paper For Autographs: Obviously Don't Know Who I Am And Don't Care. I Sign "jackie Collins" And They Go Away Quite Content.

Speakers' Nerves Affect Them In Various Ways. Some Tremble, Some Become Frenzied. I Lose All Confidence, And Suffer From A Leaden Oppression That Makes Me Wonder Why I Ever Agreed To Speak At All; The Tomb And The Conqueror Worm Seem Preferable To Delivering The Stupid And Piffling Speech I Have So Carefully Prepared.

"there Is No Disputing About Tastes," Says The Old Saw. In My Experience There Is Little Else.

The Drama May Be Called That Part Of Theatrical Art Which Lends Itself Most Readily To Intellectual Discussion: What Is Left Is Theater.

The People Of The United States, Perhaps More Than Any Other Nation In History, Love To Abase Themselves And Proclaim Their Unworthiness, And Seem To Find Refreshment In Doing So... That Is A Dark Frivolity, But Still Frivolity.

Secrets Are The Blood Of Life. Every Big Thing Is A Secret, Even When You Know It, Because You Never Know All Of It. If You Can Know Everything About Anything, It Is Not Worth Knowing.

Comparatively Few People Know What A Million Dollars Actually Is. To The Majority It Is A Gaseous Concept, Swelling Or Decreasing As The Occasion Suggests. In The Minds Of Politicians, Perhaps More Than Anywhere, The Notion Of A Million Dollars Has This Accordion-like Ability To Expand Or Contract; If They Are Disposing Of It, The Million Is A Pleasing Sum, Reflecting Warmly Upon Themselves; If Somebody Else Wants It, It Becomes A Figure Of Inordinate Size, Not To Be Compassed By The Rational Mind.

I Would Not For A Moment Have You Suppose That I Am One Of Those Idiots Who Scorns Science, Merely Because It Is Always Twisting And Turning, And Sometimes Shedding Its Skin, Like The Serpent That Is [the Doctors'] Symbol.

A Boy Is A Man In Miniature, And Though He May Sometimes Exhibit Notable Virtue, As Well As Characteristics That Seem To Be Charming Because They Are Childlike, He Is Also A Schemer, Self-seeker, Traitor, Judas, Crook, And Villain - In Short, A Man.

A Truly Great Book Should Be Read In Youth, Again In Maturity And Once More In Old Age, As A Fine Building Should Be Seen By Morning Light, At Noon And By Moonlight.

We Live In A World Where Bulk Is Equated With Quality.

Real Bibliophiles Do Not Put Their Books On Shelves For People To Look At Or Handle. They Have No Desire To Show Off Their Darlings, Or To Amaze People With Their Possessions. They Keep Their Prized Books Hidden Away In A Secret Spot To Which They Resort Stealthily, Like A Caliph Visiting His Harem, Or A Church Elder Sneaking Into A Bar. To Be A Book Collector Is To Combine The Worst Characteristics Of A Dope-fiend With Those Of A Miser.

Are You Going To Be Just Kind Of A Walking Monument To A Job, Or Are You Going To Have Some Kind Of Really Significant Inner Life Of Your Own? Because The External Things The Job, The House, The This, The That Do Not Really Fill The Place Inside.

If I Had To Describe My Remarks This Evening Frankly As If I Were In Police Court And On Oath, So To Speak I Should Have To Call It A Ramble Over Several Subjects, Portions Of Which May Seem To You To Be Impudent, And Portions Of Which Will Be Ignorant, And Portions Of Which May Contrive To Be Both At Once.

Inactivity And Deprivation Of All Accustomed Stimulus Is Not Rest; It Is A Preparation For The Tomb

Whoever Declares A Child To Be "delicate" Thereby Crowns And Anoints A Tyrant.

A Man Must Be Obedient To The Promptings Of His Innermost Heart.

It Is In This Matter That I Fall Foul Of So Many American Writers On Writing; They Seem To Think That Writing Is A Confidence Game By Means Of Which The Author Cajoles A Restless, Dull-witted, Shallow Audience Into Hearing His Point Of View. Such An Attitude Is Base, And Can Only Beget Base Prose.

Too Much Traffic With A Quotation Book Begets A Conviction Of Ignorance In A Sensitive Reader. Not Only Is There A Mass Of Quotable Stuff He Never Quotes, But An Even Vaster Realm Of Which He Has Never Heard.

Although There May Be Nothing New Under The Sun, What Is Old Is New To Us And So Rich And Astonishing That We Never Tire Of It. If We Do Tire Of It, If We Lose Our Curiosity, We Have Lost Something Of Infinite Value, Because To A High Degree It Is Curiosity That Gives Meaning And Savour To Life.

Some Countries You Love. Some Countries You Hate. Canada Is A Country You Worry About.

The Great Charm Of Cats Is Their Rampant Egotism, Their Devil-may-care Attitude Toward Responsibility, Their Disinclination To Earn An Honest Dollar.

The Victorians Have Been Immoderately Praised, And Immoderately Blamed, And Surely It Is Time We Formed Some Reasonable Picture Of Them? There Was Their Courageous, Intellectually Adventurous Side, Their Greedy And Inhuman Side, Their Superbly Poetic Side, Their Morally Pretentious Side, Their Tea And Buttered Toast Side, And Their Champagne And Skittles Side. Much Like Ourselves, In Fact, Though Rather Dirtier.

Boredom And Stupidity And Patriotism, Especially When Combined, Are Three Of The Greatest Evils Of The World We Live In.

Curiosity Is Part Of The Cement That Holds Society Together.

Celtic Civilization Was Tribal, But By No Means Savage Or Uncultivated. People Who Regarded The Theft Of A Harp From A Bard As A Crime Second Only To An Attack On The Tribal Chieftain Cannot Be Regarded As Wanting In Cultivated Feeling.

Everything Matters. The Universe Is Approximately Fifteen Billion Years Old, And I Swear That In All That Time, Nothing Has Ever Happened That Has Not Mattered, Has Not Contributed In Some Way To The Totality.

Sometimes There Was A Serious Article On A Hot Topic, And I Especially Remember One By A Bishop Headed "is Nudity Salacious?" The Bishop Thought It Need Not Be, If Encountered In The Proper Spirit, But He Gave A Lot Of Enlightening Examples Of Conditions Under Which It Might Be, In His Word, "inflammatory." There Wasn't Much Nudity In Our Neck Of The Woods, And I Enjoyed That Article Tremendously.

Imagination Is A Good Horse To Carry You Over The Ground - Not A Flying Carpet To Set You Free From Probability.

In A Government Like Ours, The Crown Is The Abiding And Unshakable Element In Government; Politicians May Come And Go, But The Crown Remains And Certain Aspects Of Our System Pertain To It Which Are Not Dependent On Any Political Party. In This Sense, The Crown Is The Consecrated Spirit Of Canada.

A Big Man Is Always Accused Of Gluttony, Whereas A Wizened Or Osseous Man Can Eat Like A Refugee At Every Meal, And No One Ever Notices His Greed.

The Reclusive Man Who Marries The Gregarious Woman, The Timid Woman Who Marries The Courageous Man, The Idealist Who Marries The Realist We Can All See These Unions: The Marriages In Which Tenderness Meets Loyalty, Where Generosity Sweetens Moroseness, Where A Sense Of Beauty Eases Some Aridity Of The Spirit, Are Not So Easy For Outsiders To Recognize; The Parties Themselves May Not Be Fully Aware Of Such Elements In A Good Match.

Very Often When I Am Introduced To Women, I Think, What Is She Really Like Behind The Disguise Which She Wears? And Very Often I Discover That She Is Pleasant Enough, And Probably Would Expand And Glow If She Received Enough Affection.

I Am Quite A Wise Old Bird, But I Am No Desert Hermit Who Can Only Prophesy When His Guts Are Knotted With Hunger. I Am Deep In The Old Man’s Puzzle, Trying To Link The Wisdom Of The Body With The Wisdom Of The Spirit Until The Two Are One.

It Was As Though She Was An Exile From A World That Saw Things Her Way

In Too Many Modern Churches There Is No Emphasis On Theology At All. There Is A Kind Of Justification By Works Or By Keeping Up With Modern Trends Anything That Will Drag In A Few More People.

To This Day I Am Indulgent Toward Orchestras That Are Trying To Lift Themselves In The World, While Critics Are Busy Assuring Them That They Are Not The Vienna Philharmonic And Never Will Be.

There Is No Nonsense So Gross That Society Will Not, At Some Time, Make A Doctrine Of It And Defend It With Every Weapon Of Communal Stupidity.

These Matters Require What I Think Of As The Shakespearean Cast Of Thought. That Is To Say, A Fine Credulity About Everything, Kept In Check By A Lively Skepticism About Everything.... It Keeps You Constantly Alert To Every Possibility.

All Mothers Think Their Children Are Oaks, But The World Never Lacks For Cabbages.

Money, It Is Often Said, Does Not Bring Happiness; It Must Be Added, However, That It Makes It Possible To Support Unhappiness With Exemplary Fortitude.

Childhood May Have Periods Of Great Happiness, But It Also Has Times That Must Simply Be Endured. Childhood At Its Best Is A Form Of Slavery Tempered By Affection.

The Bible Takes Much Of Its Color From Whoever Is Reading It, And It Provides A Text To Support Almost Every Shade Of Opinion, However Preposterous.

The Little Boy Nodded At The Peony And The Peony Seemed To Nod Back. The Little Boy Was Neat, Clean And Pretty. The Peony Was Unchaste, Dishevelled As Peonies Must Be, And At The Height Of Its Beauty.(...) Every Hour Is Filled With Such Moments, Big With Significance For Someone.

To Ask An Author Who Hopes To Be A Serious Writer If His Work Is Autobiographical Is Like Asking A Spider Where He Buys His Thread. The Spider Gets His Thread Right Out Of His Own Guts, And That Is Where The Author Gets His Writing.

It Seemed To Me As If The Stones Sang, In The Strangest Voices, In The Language Of Ultima Thule.

One Of The Things That Puzzles Me Is That So Few People Want To Look At Life As A Totality And To Recognize That Death Is No More Extraordinary Than Birth. When They Say It's The End Of Everything They Don't Seem To Recognize That We Came From Somewhere And It Would Be Very, Very Strange Indeed To Suppose That We're Not Going Somewhere.

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