Books cannot take it away. Strangely and wonderfully it blends itself
with those vague memories of what we have read, somewhere, sometime,
and not always alone. Strangely and wonderfully it blends itself with
those other moments when the best books in the world seem irrelevant,
and all "culture" an impertinent intrusion; but however it comes and
however it goes, it is the thing that makes our gravity ridiculous;
our philosophy pedantic. It is the thing that gives to the
"amusements" of the imagination that touch of burning fire; that
breath of wider air; that taste of sharper salt, which, arriving when
we least expect it, and least--heaven knows--deserve it, makes any
final opinion upon the stuff of this world vain and false; and any
condemnation of the opinions of others foolish and empty. It destroys
our assurances as it alleviates our miseries, and in some unspeakable
way, like a primrose growing on the edge of a sepulchre, it flings
forth upon the heavy night, a fleeting signal, "Bon espoir y gist au
fond!"




ONE HUNDRED BEST BOOKS


1. THE PSALMS OF DAVID.

The Psalms remain, whether in the Latin version or in the authorized
English translation, the most pathetic and poignant, as well as the
most noble and dignified of all poetic literature. The rarest spirits
of our race will always return to them at every epoch in their lives
for consolation, for support and for repose.