Literature is not exhaustible, for the sufficient and simple reason that a single book is not. A book is not an isolated entity: i...t is a narration, an axis of innumerable narrations. One literature differs from another, either before or after it, not so much because of the text as for the manner in which it is read.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Had Dr. Johnson written his own life, in conformity with the opinion which he has given, that every man's life may be best written... by himself; had he employed in the preservation of his own history, that clearness of narration and elegance of language in which he has embalmed so many eminent persons, the world would probably have had the most perfect example of biography that was ever exhibited.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
If the religious spirit be ever mentioned in any historical narration, we are sure to meet afterwards with a detail of the miserie...s which attend it. And no period of time can be happier or more prosperous, than those in which it is never regarded or heard of.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Some years ago, writing about stage adaptations of fiction, I noted: "There is a simple law governing the dramatization of novels:... if it is worth doing, it can't be done; if it can be done, it's not worth doing." Certain reviewers did me the honor of calling this Simon's Law, and I might as well state it now as far as the screen is concerned, "Simon's Law" may still serve as a useful warning but has no legality. For two reasons. First, because unlike the stage, the screen possesses as many resources as fiction, so that, for example, extended narration is possible on screen, backed up by an extensive visual scenario, but not on the stage, where it must become monotonous; similarly, stream of consciousness has its filmic equivalents in montage, voice-over dialogue, closeups and extreme closeups, dissolves, etc., whereas on stage, as mere verbiage, it cannot fail to bore. Secondly, because the screen can fully illustrate what the novel can only name or describe. Of course, this is a mixed blessing, because such illustration can make things overexplicit and oppressive; still, it is there as a resource for those who can effectively handle it.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
That night ended the day when history was written in Abilene. August 14, 1865 was the date. That was the end of the first drive on... the Chisolm Trail. It was just the first of thousands of such drives bringing beef to the world.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
I am packing my belongings in the shawl my mother used to wear when she went to the market. And I am going from my valley. But thi...s time I shall never return. I am leaving behind me my 50 years of memory--memory. Strange that the mind will forget so much of what only this moment has passed and yet hold clear and bright the memory of what happened years ago of men and women long since dead. Yet who shall say what is real and what is not. Can I believe this all gone when their voices are still a glory in my ears. No. And I will stand to say no and no again, for they remain within my mind. There is no fence nor hedge around time that is gone. You can go back and have what you like of it, if you can remember. So I can go close my eyes on my valley as it is today and it is gone. And I see it as it was when I was a boy--green it was and possessed of the plenty of the earth. In all Wales there was none so beautiful.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
In those days, the blag slag, the waste of the coal pits, had only begun to cover the side of our hill. Not enough to mar the coun...tryside nor blacken the beauty of our village. For the colliery had only begun to poke its skinny black fingers between the green.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Everything I ever learned as a small boy came from my father. And I never found anything he ever told me to be wrong or worthless.... The simple lessons he taught me are as sharp and clear in my mind, as if I had heard them only yesterday.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »
Twenty-two weeks the men were out as the strike moved into winter. It was strange to go out into the street and find the men there... in the daytime. It had a feeling of fright in it. And always the mood of the men grew uglier as empty bellies and desperation began to conquer reason. Any man who was not their friend became their enemy. They knew my father had opposed the strike, and now it was they who opposed him.LESSATTRIBUTION DETAIL »