It Is Hideous And Coarse To Assume

Writing Is Conscience, Scruple, And The Farming Of Our Ancestors.

There Are Men That Are Birds, And Their Raiment Is Trembling Feathers, For They Show Their Souls To Everyone And Everything That Is Ungentle Or Untutored Or Evil Or Mockery Is As A Rude Stone Cast At Them, And They Suffer All Day Long, Or As Paul Remarks They Are Slain Every Moment.

No Country Has Suffered So Much From The Ruins Of War While Being At Peace As The American.

It Is Very Perplexing How An Intrepid Frontier People, Who Fought A Wilderness, Floods, Tornadoes, And The Rockies, Cower Before Criticism, Which Is Regarded As A Malignant Tumor In The Imagination.

What Has A Writer To Be Bombastic About? Whatever Good A Man May Write Is The Consequence Of Accident, Luck, Or Surprise, And Nobody Is More Surprised Than An Honest Writer When He Makes A Good Phrase Or Says Something Truthful.