There are books that are at once excellent and boring. Those that at once leap to the mind are Thoreau’s Walden, Emerson’s Essays, George Eliot’s Adam Bede and Landor’s Dialogues. Is it a chance that they belong very much to the same period?
(W. Somerset Maugham, A Writer’s Notebook. Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday & Company, 1949, p. 264).