Oh, this is good. If you enjoy Chesterton’s style of writing and thinking, you will love Heretics. If you don’t, even in the least, it would be hell to read even a page. What follows in classic Chesterton. This is why I have a smile on my face every time I read Chesterton, and why I cannot go very long without reading something of his. I realize I quote Chesterton a lot, but I have given up apologizing for that long ago.
He [Bernard Shaw] has even been infected to some extent with the primary intellectual weakness of his new master, Nietzsche, the strange notion that the greater and stronger a man was the more he would despise other things. The greater and stronger a man is the more he would be inclined to prostrate himself before a periwinkle. That Mr. Shaw keeps a lifted head and a contemptuous face before the colossal panorama of empires and civilizations, this does not in itself convince one that he sees things as they are. I should be most effectively convinced that he did if I found him staring with religious astonishment at his own feet. “What are those two beautiful and industrious beings,” I can imagine him murmuring to himself, “whom I see everywhere, serving me I know not why? What fairy godmother bade them come trotting out of elfland when I was born? What god of the borderland, what barbaric god of legs, must I propitiate with fire and wine, lest they run away with me?”