“I knew a man once, Maurice, who was at Oxford for three years, and after that went down with no degree. At College, while his friends were seeking for Truth in funny brown German Philosophies, Sham Religions, stinking bottles and identical equations, he was lying on his back in Eynsham meadows thinking of Nothing, and got the Truth by this parallel road of his much more quickly than did they by theirs; for the asses are still seeking, mildly disputing, and, in a cultivated manner, following the gleam, so that they have become in their Donnish middle-age a nuisance and a pest; while he–that other–with the Truth very fast and firm at the end of a leather thong is dragging her sliding, whining and crouching on her four feet, dragging her reluctant through the world, even into the broad daylight where Truth most hates to be.”
– Hilaire Belloc
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1:
Section 01 Letter to Maurice
2:
Section 02 On the Pleasure of Taking up One's Pen
3:
Section 03 On Getting Respected in Inns and Hotels
4:
Section 04 On Ignorance
5:
Section 05 On Advertisement
6:
Section 06 On a House
7:
Section 07 On the Ilness of my Muse
8:
Section 08 On a Dog and a Man Also
9:
Section 09 On Tea
10:
Section 10 On Them
11:
Section 11 On Railways and Things
12:
Section 12 On Conversations in Trains
13:
Section 13 On the Return of the Dead
14:
Section 14 On the Approach of an Awful Doom
15:
Section 15 On a Rich Man Who Suffered
16:
Section 16 On the Child Who Died
17:
Section 17 On a Lost Manuscript
18:
Section 18 On a Man Who was Protected by Another Man
19:
Section 19 On National Debts
20:
Section 20 On Lords
21:
Section 21 On Jingoes In the Shape of a Warning Being
22:
Section 22 On a Winged Horse and the Exile Who Rode Him
