Criticism, whatever may be its pretensions, never does more than to define the impression which is made upon it at a certain moment by a work wherein the writer himself noted the impression of the world which he received at a certain hour.

Tell the rabble my name is Cabell.

Sad hours and glad hours, and all hours, pass over; One thing unshaken stays: Life, that hath Death for spouse, hath Chance for lover; Whereby decays Each thin…

A book, once it is printed and published, becomes individual. It is by its publication as decisively severed from its author as in parturition a child is cut o…