Omnibuses driveto Heaven; Pan is heard in the
brushwood; girls turn into trees.
Ilook up and, behold, the moon is under
eclipse.
The divorce law and the poorlaw come in for little
of his attention. Yeats is like acrow, and he himself has been forced to sit on the
window sill in hispyjamas.
And that, to tell the truth, is no easy question to
answer. Our businessis not to build in brick and mortar, but to draw together the
seen andthe unseen.
Forster is most in earnest, at the crisis ofthe
book, where the sword falls or the bookcase drops.
We are to notice this, to take heed of
that.
Who has set this malicious gossip
afloat?
IVMany years passed before A PASSAGE TO INDIA
appeared. Our appreciation may be intense, but our curiosity is even greater. It has
notceased to be itself by becoming something else.
These arethe villains and heroes of much of his
writing. Forster does, but he gives it us by choosing a very few facts andthose of a
highly relevant kind.
Our appreciation may be intense, but our curiosity
is even greater. The truth, ifyou would only believe it, is much more beautiful than
any lie.
Hence we arrive at that balance of forces which
plays so largea part in the structure of Mr. His old maids, his clergy,are the most
lifelike we have had since Jane Austen laid down the pen. He gives us the effect of
ordinary life,as Mr.
All these are things I do not knowfor myself. This
meek grey innocent creature runs right over the lionspaws.
It deepens, it becomes moreinsistent as time
passes. Middlebrow obscuring, dulling, tarnishing and coarseningeven the silver edge
of Heavens own scythe.