Rereading A.J. Liebling carries me happily back to an age when all good journalists knew they had plenty to be modest about and were.
In every age there has been a stream of popular opinion that has carried all before it and given a family character as it were to the century.
Age carries all things away even the mind.
Many a genius has been slow of growth. Oaks that flourish for a thousand years do not spring up into beauty like a reed.