The ingot is so small, the manipulation so
incessant. But the essay is alive; thereis no reason to despair. Its extraordinary
how we go through life with eyes half shut, withdull ears, with dormant
thoughts.
But the essay is alive; thereis no reason to
despair. He wasaffected by private joys and sorrows, and had no gospel to preachand
no learning to impart.
Squire are not fiercely attached toanything in
itself.
Nor has any generation more need thanours to
cherish its contemporaries.
He must skim thesurface of thought and dilute the
strength of personality.
This art is possessed to perfection by Mr. Yet
bothcritics are in agreement about Milton and about Keats.
And modern literature, with all itsimperfections,
has the same hold on us and the same fascination. Very various talents havehelped or
hindered the passage of the idea into words.
That is the explanation; that is why they
differ.
But it is ill work dragging such intimationsfrom
their element. Among his readers were people of the most oppositeages and
sympathies. But themere fact of their existence had a centralising influence. The
changewas not altogether for the worse. Very various talents havehelped or hindered
the passage of the idea into words. Still the question remains, and let usput it
boldly to the critics themselves.
Some scrapethrough painfully; others fly with every
wind favouring.