Arthur Stringer

Arthur Stringer

Summary

Portrait of Arthur Stringer Arthur Stringer The Anatomy of Love — Chapter1 (1916)

And some of those voices were the voices of young women.
It was the old, the never-ending game. It made Macraven's thoughts go back to his own youth, to other nights of quiet moonlight, when he had leaned from a window in Oxford and heard much the same music and, across the level Magdalen lawns, had listened to much the same light and happy voices. And still later, in Heidelberg, he had often enough looked out on the same moonlight, on the same odorous beauty of earth and air, on the same unphilosophizing call of youth to youth.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Arthur Stringer Arthur Stringer The Anatomy of Love — Chapter1 (1916)

The question I wish to put to you is something more personal, something more vital.”
Waggles shifted uncomfortably. He stared furtively at the green baize table littered with books and papers, at the figurine of Astarte side by side with a bronze statuette of a many-breasted Goddess of Ephesus, at the shining round lenses of the dean's eyeglasses, which threw back the light from the green-globed reading lamp.
“Waggles,” continued the Dean of Amboro, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and leaning his finger tips meditatively together, “what is love?”
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of Arthur Stringer Arthur Stringer The Anatomy of Love — Chapter1 (1916)

With that point, Waggles, you stand on perfectly sound ground. Herbert Spencer, in fact, has even ventured to anticipate you there. Clustering about the physical feeling constituting its nucleus are subsidiary feelings, such as those awakened by beauty of face and figure and those grounded on human: attachment, and reverence and self-esteem, together with love of appreciation, of sympathy, of freedom, even of property itself.
Source: Wikisource

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