Robert Cortes Holliday

Summary

Robert Cortes Holliday Turns about Town

All of these ways of reading are worse, if anything can be worse than that, than reading in bed. Because in bed you do, at least, have your mind sandwiched within doors. You do not feel the surge and rumble of the world—the sound and movement of the things of which literature is made; but any contact with which (at the moment of reading) is destructive to the illusion which it is the province of literature to create.
For literature (reading it, I mean here) is, in this, like love: Richest are the returns to that one whose passion is most complete in its surrender.
Source: Gutenberg

Robert Cortes Holliday Turns about Town

When he had concluded there was in Louise's eyes—as he looked up, and saw her sitting, leaning forward with her chin on the back of her hand, her elbow on her knee,—a strange light. It occurred to Keyes that he did not remember ever to have seen a woman's face look exactly that way before. Probably not. This was a light some men never find on land or sea. It does not shine for any man more than once or twice. They sat awhile, these two in the little parlor, and happiness roared through their veins. Louise told Keyes that she had always known that he "had it in him."
Source: Gutenberg

Robert Cortes Holliday Turns about Town

But it does seem queer that not a single newspaper in Washington runs book reviews or prints any degree at all of literary comment.
Alluding to San Francisco, that happy dale of the bon-vivant, how does he who likes good living make out in Washington, unless he lives in a club, an embassy, or at the White House? A grand public market, two first-class hotel dining-rooms, and many fine homes. But an earnest seeker after eating as a fine art could find tucked away none of those chop-houses and restaurants to dine in which enlarge the soul of man.
Source: Gutenberg

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