cialist.

The second suggestion is to think as well as to read. I know people
who read and read, and for all the good it does them they might just as
well cut bread-and-butter. They take to reading as better men take to
drink. They fly through the shires of literature on a motor-car, their
sole object being motion. They will tell you how many books they have
read in a year.

Unless you give at least forty-five minutes to careful, fatiguing
reflection (it is an awful bore at first) upon what you are reading,
your ninety minutes of a night are chiefly wasted. This means that
your pace will be slow.

Never mind.

Forget the goal; think only of the surrounding country; and after a
period, perhaps when you least expect it, you will suddenly find
yourself in a lovely town on a hill.

XII

DANGERS TO AVOID

I cannot terminate these hints, often, I fear, too didactic and abrupt,
upon the full use of one's time to the great end of living (as
distinguished from vegetating) without briefly referring to certain
dangers which lie in wait for the sincere aspirant towards life. The
first is the terrible danger of becoming that most odious and least
supportable of persons--a prig. Now a prig is a pert fellow who gives
himself airs of superior wisdom. A prig is a pompous fool who has gone
out for a ceremonial walk, and without knowing it has lost an important
part of his attire, namely, his sense of humour. A prig is a tedious
individual who, having made a discovery, is so impressed by his
discovery that he is capable of being gravely displeased because the
entire world is not also impressed by it. Unconsciously to become a
prig is an easy and a fatal thing.

Hence, when one sets forth on the enterprise of using all one's time,
it is just as well to remember that one's own time, and not other
people's time, is the material with which one has to deal; that the
earth rolled on pretty comfortably before one began to balance a budget
of the hours, and that it will continue to roll on pretty comfortably
whether or not one succeeds in one's new role of chancellor of the
exchequer of time. It is as well not to chatter too much about what
one is doing, and not to betray a too-pained sadness at the spectacle
of a whole world deliberately wasting so many hours out of every day,
and therefore never really living. It will be found, ultimately, that
in taking care of one's self one has quite all one can do.

Another danger i