A bookÂ like no other that ever will be, as twenty brilliant acknowledgements from literary sovereigns, – â€œscintillating,â€ â€œfascinating,â€ â€œsubtle,â€ â€œsincere,â€ â€œsublime,â€ â€œgorgeous,â€ â€œfantastic,â€ â€œexquisite,â€ â€œambrosial,â€ â€œmost soul-compelling,â€ â€œso suggestive of still higher things,â€ â€œa glimpse into Eleusinian mysteries or the literature of the planet Mars,â€ â€œlike purple mountain peaks rising above the clouds and disappearing in the whiteness of shrouds of mist,â€ â€“ expressly and by necessary implication agree.
There is nothing like it in literature; and a splendid mind it is that goes flashing on through these pages.
The ebullition of your thoughts makes me feel as if I had been attracted to within a few hundred miles of the sun and had his gas-jets in full view.
Thanks to Odd Ends, I have learned that these measured statements appeared on the back cover of MyÂ Soundspeed Discovery, Expanding into a Constructive Medley of Wit and Song; being a Four Years After-Inflorescence of The Life-Romance of an Algebraist, by George Winslow Pierce (1895). I think we can honestly say that such a matchless blurb applies equally well to Gravitas, Punctilio, Rectitude & Pippy Bags.