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One can be bored until boredom becomes a mystical experience.

Logan Pearsall Smith

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Logan Pearsall Smith
Age: 80 †
Born: 1865
Born: October 18
Died: 1946
Died: March 2
Author
Literary Critic
Writer
Millville
New Jersey
Lloyd Logan Pearsall Smith
Bored
Becomes
Experience
Mystical
Boredom

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The world is not unkind, and reprobates are worse than their reputations.
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People have a right to be shocked the mention of unmentionable things is a kind of participation in them.
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Happiness is a wine of the rarest vintage, and seems insipid to a vulgar taste.
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All my life, as down an abyss without a bottom. I have been pouring van loads of information into that vacancy of oblivion I call my mind.
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Charming people live up to the very edge of their charm, and behave as outrageously as the world will let them.
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He who goes against the fashion is himself its slave
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If we shake hands with icy fingers, it is because we have burnt them so horribly before.
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There are people who, like houses, are beautiful in dilapidation.
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I like to walk down Bond Street, thinking of all the things I don't desire.
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Money and sex are forces too unruly for our reason they can only be controlled by taboos with which we tamper at our peril.
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The emergence of a new term to describe a certain phenomenon, of a new adjective to designate a certain quality, is always of interest, both linguistically and from the point of view of the history of human thought.
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To become young again would seem to me an appalling prospect. Youth is a kind of delirium, which can be cured, if it is ever cured at all, by years of painful treatment.
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Fine writers should split hairs together, and sit side by side, like friendly apes, to pick the fleas from each others fur.
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How awful to reflect that what people say of us is true!
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An echo of music, a face in the street, the wafer of the new moon, a wanton thought - only in the iridescence of things the vagabond soul is happy.
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For souls in growth, great quarrels are great emancipations.
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Self-respecting people do not care to peep at their reflections in unexpected mirrors, or to see themselves as others see them.
Logan Pearsall Smith
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There is more felicity on the far side of baldness than young men can possibly imagine.
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What things there are to write, if one could only write them! My mind is full of gleaming thought gay moods and mysterious, moth-like meditations hover in my imagination, fanning their painted wings. But always the rarest, those streaked with azure and the deepest crimson, flutter away beyond my reach.
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What pursuit is more elegant than that of collecting the ignominies of our nature and transfixing them for show, each on the bright pin of a polished phrase?
Logan Pearsall Smith