Next To The Joy Of

The Labors Of The True Critic Are More Essential To The Author, Even, Than To The Reader.

We Cannot Hope To Scale Great Moral Heights By Ignoring Petty Obligations.

We Owe To One Another All The Wit And Good Humour We Can Command; And Nothing So Clears Our Mental Vistas As Sympathetic And Intelligent Conversation.

A Man Who Listens Because He Has Nothing To Say Can Hardly Be A Source Of Inspiration. The Only Listening That Counts Is That Of The Talker Who Alternately Absorbs And Expresses Ideas.

When The Milk Of Human Kindness Turns Sour, It Is A Singularly Unpalatable Draught.