In Religious Matters A Traveller

Man Alone Of Animals Plays The Ape To His Dreams .

I Do That Which I Do In Every Place. Here Also, At The Gateway Of That Garden Into Which Time Has Not Entered, I Fight With Time My Ever-losing Battle, Because To Do That Diverts Me.

Men Have Begun To Observe And Classify, They Turn From Creation To Criticism... It Is The Fashion To Be A Wit... One Must Be Able To Conceal Indecency With Elegant Diction; Manners Are Everything, Morals Nothing.

If We Assiduously Cultivate Our Powers Of Exaggeration, Perhaps We, Too, Shall Obtain The Paradise Of Liars. And There Raphael Shall Paint For Us Scores And Scores Of His Manifestly Impossible Pictures... And Shakespeare Will Lie To Us Of Fabulous Islands Far Past 'the Still-vex'd Bermoothes,' And Bring Us Fresh Tales From The Coast Of Bohemia. For No One Will Speak The Truth There, And We Shall All Be Perfectly Happy.

A Book , Once It Is Printed And Published, Becomes Individual. It Is By Its Publication As Decisively Severed From Its Author As In Parturition A Child Is Cut Off From Its Parent. The Book "means" Thereafter, Perforce, Both Grammatically And Actually, Whatever Meaning This Or That Reader Gets Out Of It.