Rocky

soaps. For many, Literature, which in this context may be said to have ended with Proust, has become a suburb of sociology or a branch of culture. Literature is as much an Ideal Form as any of those which are concealed by the shadows thrown on the rocky wall of Plato’s cave. We may know it when we see it, but we never quite see it in all its fullness in any single work. But of what does this ‘fullness’ consist? The good, the true and the beautiful, no doubt, though the modern world has difficulty in