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244 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1941
"But your work could be translated into other languages," I suggested.
"There is no language that can rend the flavor and the beauty of modern Greek," he replied. "French is too wooden, inflexible, logic-ridden, too precise; English is too flat, too prosaic, too business-like...You don't know how to make verbs in English."
English hasn't got any guts to-day. You're all castrated, you've become business men, engineers, technicians. It sounds like wooden money dropping into a sewer.
I have always felt that the art of telling a story consists in so stimulating the listener's imagination that he drowns himself in his own reveries long before the end.
To be silent the whole day long, see no newspaper, hear no radio, listen to no gossip, be thoroughly and completely lazy, thoroughly and completely indifferent to the fate of the world is the finest medicine a man can give himself.