A Slight Touch Of Friendly Malice And

People Say That Life Is The Thing, But I Prefer Reading.

Growing Old Is Not A Gradual Decline, But A Series Of Drops, Full Of Sorrow, From One Ledge To Another Below It.

Happiness Is A Wine Of The Rarest Vintage, And Seems Insipid To A Vulgar Taste.

This Nice And Subtle Happiness Of Reading, This Joy Not Chilled By Age, This Polite And Unpunished Vice, This Selfish, Serene Life-long Intoxication.

How Awful To Reflect That What People Say Of Us Is True!