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Christopher Morley
Christopher Morley (1890–1957) was an American journalist, novelist, essayist, and poet, known for his versatile writing and keen wit. He authored over 100 books, including the popular novel "Kitty Foyle," which was later adapted into an Academy Award-winning film. Morley was also a founding editor of the Saturday Review of Literature and a member of the Algonquin Round Table, a celebrated group of New York City writers, critics, and actors.
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BAYBERRY CANDLESDear sweet, when dusk comes up the hill, The fire leaps high with golden prongs;I place along the chimneysill The tiny candles of my songs. And though unsteadily they burn, As evening shades from grey to blueLike candles they will surely learn To shine more clear, for love of you. SECRET LAUGHTER"I had a secret...
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Considering that most friendships are made by mere hazard, how is it that men find themselves equipped and fortified with just the friends they need? We have heard of men who asserted that they would like to have more money, or more books, or more pairs of pyjamas; but we have never heard of a man saying that he did not have enough friends. For, while one can never have too many friends, yet those one...
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CHAPTER ONE Gissing lived alone (except for his Japanese butler) in a little house in the country, in that woodland suburb region called the Canine Estates. He lived comfortably and thoughtfully, as bachelors often do. He came of a respectable family, who had always conducted themselves calmly and without too much argument. They had bequeathed him just enough income to live on cheerfully, without...
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KATHLEEN I The Scorpions were to meet at eight o'clock and before that hour Kenneth Forbes had to finish the first chapter of a serial story. The literary society, named in accordance with the grotesque whim of Oxford undergraduates, consisted of eight members, and it was proposed that each one should contribute a chapter. Forbes was of a fertile wit, and he had been nominated the first operator....
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THE PERFECT READER On Christmas Eve, while the Perfect Reader sits in his armchair immersed in a book—so absorbed that he has let the fire go out—I propose to slip gently down the chimney and leave this tribute in his stocking. It is not a personal tribute. I speak, on behalf of the whole fraternity of writers, this word of gratitude—and envy. No one who has ever done any writing, or has any...
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