of George Meredith
His style is chaos illumined by flashes of lightning. As a writer he has mastered everything except language.
Epitaph When I am dead i hope that it may be said "His sins were scarlet, but his books were…
It is reason and wisdom which takes away cares, not places affording wide views over the sea.
Flying Crooked The butterfly, a cabbage-white, (His honest idiocy of flight) Will never now, it is too late, Master the…