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Benson, Arthur Christopher, 1862-1925

"The Silent Isle"

I have never been able to sympathise with that
jealous sense of privacy about one's thoughts, that is so strong in
some people. I like to be able to be alone and to have my little
stronghold; but that is because the presence of conventional and
unsympathetic people bores and tires me. But in a book it is different.
One is not intruded upon or gazed at; one may tell exactly as much of
one's inner life as one will--and there are, of course, many things
which I would not commit to the pages of a book, or even tell a friend.
But I put nothing in my book that I would not have said quite readily
to a friend whom I loved and trusted; and I like to feel that the book
has made me several gentle and unknown friends, whose company the laws
of time and space forbid me to frequent. And more than that, there
might be things about the people who liked my book which I should not
like; superficial things such as manner or look; I might not even like
their opinions on certain points; but now, by writing this book, the
best part of me, I think, has made friends with the best part of them.
All art depends upon a certain kinship of spirit between the man who
produces and the men who perceive; and just as a painter may speak to
kindred spirits in a picture, or as a preacher may show his own heart
in a sermon, so a writer may reveal himself in a book, if he is so
inclined.


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