Rose Macaulay 1881-1958 |
This is the opening of her essay on Reading:
Here is one of the oddest of the odd inventions which man has sought out, this conveying to one another by tracks scratched on paper thoughts privately conceived in the mind. It shows, as all the arts show, the infinite publicism of humankind, the sociability, the interdependence, which cannot endure to have a thought, to conceive a tale, a tune, a picture, an arrangement of words, or anything else, but all must forthwith be informed of it. And how avidly we run to be informed; we have already consumed many thousands of tales, poems essays, and what not, but we are never satiate, we are greedy always for more.
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