Others

May He support us all the day long, till the shades lengthen, and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done! Then in His mercy may He give us a safe lodging, and a holy rest, and peace at the last.

You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style.

The whole, though it be long, stands almost complete and finished in my mind, so that I can survey it, like a fine picture or a beautiful statue, at a glance. Nor do I hear in my imagination the parts successively, but I hear them, as it were, all at once.

The whole, though it be long, stands almost complete and finished in my mind, so that I can survey it, like a fine picture or a beautiful statue, at a glance. Nor do I hear in my imagination the parts successively, but I hear them, as it were, all at once.

Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.

Melody is the essence of music. I compare a good melodist to a fine racer, and counterpoints to hack post-horses.

Melody is the essence of music. I compare a good melodist to a fine racer, and counterpoints to hack post-horses.

The harp that once through Tara’s halls

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,

It could be said of me that in this book I have only made up a bunch of other men’s flowers, providing of my own only the string that ties them together.

It could be said of me that in this book I have only made up a bunch of other men’s flowers, providing of my own only the string that ties them together.

on being asked what she wore in bed: Chanel No. 5.

Good heavens! For more than forty years I have been speaking prose without knowing it.

If you steal from one author, it’s plagiarism;

Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the field, we do injuriously by licensing and prohibiting to misdoubt her strength. Let her and Falsehood grapple; who ever knew Truth put to the worse, in a free and open encounter?

A good book is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.

As good almost kill a man as kill a good book: who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God’s image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it were in the eye.

The first and wisest of them all professed

O fairest of creation, last and best

So absolute she seems

Still govern thou my song,

My fairest, my espoused, my latest found,

Adam, the goodliest man of men since born

For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense.