He Who Demands Little Gets

And Where Was Happiness If It Sprung Not From The Soil? Where Contentment If It Dwelt Not Near To Nature?

Passion Alone Could Destroy Passion. All The Thinking In The World Could Not Make So Much As A Dent In Its Surface.

Youth Is The Period Of Harsh Judgments, And A Man Seldom Learns Until He Reaches Thirty That Human Nature Is Made Up Not Of Simples, But Of Compounds.

... The Novel, As A Living Force, If Not As A Work Of Art, Owes An Incalculable Debt To What We Call, Mistakenly, The New Psychology, To Freud, In His Earlier Interpretations, And More Truly, I Think, To Jung.

He Knows So Little And Knows It So Fluently.