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CHAPTER XIX
MY DEAR TIME'S WASTE

ART is long, life is short. For the artist a year without progress is a year wasted. From 1932 to 1937 I wasted five years. Not that I was ever unoccupied. It was during this period that I wrote Une Histoire d'Angleterre which Artheme Fayard had commissioned on the advice of Jacques Bainville and which necessitated enormous reading. But apart from this work, which I believe was sound enough, these five years were for me a time of distraction and confusion of mind. The public lectures involved much squandering of time. The lecture trips were a pretext for innumerable changes of scene. The preparation of courses for Monsieur Doumic or Madame Brisson absorbed my energies. From these courses, to be sure, certain books emerged (Edward VII, Magicians and Logicians, Sentiments and Customs, The Art of Living) but they no longer answered, as had Climats, Bernard Quesnay, Ariel and Disraeli, that imperious need for expression which produces original and lasting works.
For some years my wife and I suffered from a dangerous hunger for travel. One winter we spent three months in Egypt because I had promised to give a series of lectures at the French Lycee in Alexandria. Egypt was beautiful and worth seeing; we enjoyed visiting the tombs of Sakkara and the mosque-citadel of Cairo, but beyond that it was necessary to give talks, receive journalists and see various officials, French, English, Egyptian, Syrian, Coptic and Jewish. Time flowed by, irretrievably. In the spring we left for Malta because in a moment of weakness I had promised to write a little book about the island. The English critic Desmond MacCarthy gave us a letter of introduction to his brother-in-law Admiral Sir William Fisher, Commander-in-Chief of the British fleet in the Mediterranean, a great sailor and a great gentleman: suddenly we found ourselves guests of honour who went from party to party and from dockyard to cruiser.
Then, almost as soon as we had returned from our spring trip, we left for England where we spent part of the summer. What beautiful houses

travel books:
where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE ART is long, life is short. For what is artist a year without progress is a year wasted. From 1932 to 1937 I wasted five years. Not that I was ever unoccupied. It was during this period that I wrote Une Histoire d'Angleterre which Artheme Fayard had commissioned on what is advice of Jacques Bainville and which necessitated enormous reading. But apart from this work, which I believe was sound enough, these five years were for me a time of distraction and confusion of mind. what is public lectures involved much squandering of time. what is lecture trips were a pretext for innumerable changes of scene. what is preparation of courses for Monsieur Doumic or Madame Brisson absorbed my energies. From these courses, to be sure, certain books emerged (Edward VII, Magicians and Logicians, Sentiments and Customs, what is Art of Living) but they no longer answered, as had Climats, Bernard Quesnay, Ariel and Disraeli, that imperious need for expression which produces original and lasting works. For some years my wife and I suffered from a dangerous hunger for travel. One winter we spent three months in Egypt because I had promised to give a series of lectures at what is French Lycee in Alexandria. Egypt was beautiful and worth seeing; we enjoyed what is ing what is tombs of Sakkara and what is mosque-citadel of Cairo, but beyond that it was necessary to give talks, receive journalists and see various officials, French, English, Egyptian, Syrian, Coptic and Jewish. Time flowed by, irretrievably. In what is spring we left for Malta because in a moment of weakness I had promised to write a little book about what is island. what is English critic Desmond MacCarthy gave us a letter of introduction to his brother-in-law Admiral Sir William Fisher, Commander-in-Chief of what is British fleet in what is Mediterranean, a great sailor and a great gentleman: suddenly we found ourselves guests of honour who went from party to party and from dockyard to cruiser. Then, almost as soon as we had returned from our spring trip, we left for England where we spent part of what is summer. What beautiful houses where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Call No Man Happy (1943) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 196 where is p align="center" where is strong CHAPTER XIX MY DEAR TIME'S WASTE where is p align="justify" ART is long, life is short. For what is artist a year without progress is a year wasted. From 1932 to 1937 I wasted five years. Not that I was ever unoccupied. It was during this period that I wrote Une Histoire d'Angleterre which Artheme Fayard had commissioned on what is advice of Jacques Bainville and which necessitated enormous reading. But apart from this work, which I believe was sound enough, these five years were for me a time of distraction and confusion of mind. what is public lectures involved much squandering of time. what is lecture trips were a pretext for innumerable changes of scene. what is preparation of courses for Monsieur Doumic or Madame Brisson absorbed my energies. From these courses, to be sure, certain books emerged (Edward VII, Magicians and Logicians, Sentiments and Customs, what is Art of Living) but they no longer answered, as had Climats, Bernard Quesnay, Ariel and Disraeli, that imperious need for expression which produces original and lasting works. For some years my wife and I suffered from a dangerous hunger for travel. One winter we spent three months in Egypt because I had promised to give a series of lectures at what is French Lycee in Alexandria. Egypt was beautiful and worth seeing; we enjoyed what is ing what is tombs of Sakkara and what is mosque-citadel of Cairo, but beyond that it was necessary to give talks, receive journalists and see various officials, French, English, Egyptian, Syrian, Coptic and Jewish. Time flowed by, irretrievably. In what is spring we left for Malta because in a moment of weakness I had promised to write a little book about what is island. what is English critic Desmond MacCarthy gave us a letter of introduction to his brother-in-law Admiral Sir William Fisher, Commander-in-Chief of what is British fleet in what is Mediterranean, a great sailor and a great gentleman: suddenly we found ourselves guests of honour who went from party to party and from dockyard to cruiser. Then, almost as soon as we had returned from our spring trip, we left for England where we spent part of what is summer. What beautiful houses where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Call No Man Happy (1943) books

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