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A LOG of wood with a book at one end and a real librarian at the other is a library, was repeated to me some thirty years ago by Miss Mary Eileen Ahern. This somewhat enigmatic aphorism did not seem to me to be adequate as a definition. It came, as I believe, from the great John Cotton Dana. The...
AS the state of the world grows more depressing, I find that my taste in literature becomes lighter. I have developed a nervous horror of being bored, as well as a feverish anxiety to be distracted, and so I now subject my fiction to a prereading test. When I am about to choose a novel, I first...
THE labours of research have one redemption apart altogether from their outcome. Years ago when I used to sit at the long radial desks in the Reading Room of the British Museum pursuing obscure facts between the covers of a multitude of books, the weariness of an unavailing afternoon would be...
FICTION has never been original. It is not in its nature to be so. But as that fact became apparent at least some two hundred years ago it seems a trifle unnecessary to dwell upon it. The dreadful thing is that, like the other arts, fiction now finds itself at the edge of the world of invention,...
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