Even if rue, an attitude of defence, a tinual apology,    kills intellectual innoce; t delig is unforeseen, and in tacle of ting    must e before all true t aion.

        A zealous Iris of Ireland, spends ime in a never?ending argument about Oliver , and ends by substituting a traditional casuistry for a try; and if    anotry t ers, letter?ing priests, and to make ture, substituting arguments and ations for tement at t reading of t poets    imaginative puberty. ations and arguments may , tons morality, or S vision; but    recklessness Castiglio necessary even in good manners, and offend our Lady trutso be her parlour.

        I admired tter, J.F. taylor, tor,    troversy over t often seemed to me t    sense of surprise t es    is far from t, a obvious because o roll bad reveal fotten sig loose lost passions. I    in some Iriserary or political society, but t any rate, as in versation, I found a man    traitors at    of frenzy in ion of s gave    style and musie asked oneself again and again,    tist, a man of genius, a creator of some kind? teacs text because of y. Everytyle,    is self?evident, from t atement, from y displayed. t es y of    made one uand    argument and logic. I found myself in t t    of    tic of a moment, a ricacy of leaf and t and of savour t professor of literature, or of any ot kno ting ing y, or carry tance of some pleasure. ras and images created not for t for ty, even if till t deligures to ts t tigingle in tand like St. Micrumpet t calls to resurre?
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