Yes, It's Hard To Write. But It's

It Is Mere Coincidence That Cooper Was Born In The Year Which Produced The Power Of Sympathy And That When He Died Uncle Tom's Cabin Was Passing Through Its Serial Stage, And Yet The Limits Of His Life Mark Almost Exactly The First Great Period Of American Fiction.

Familiar Life, Tending To Sordidness, Had Been Succeeded By Remote Life, Generally Idealized; Historical Detail Had Been Brought In To Teach Readers Who Were Being Entertained.

Yes, It's Hard To Write. But It's Harder Not To.

The First Writers Are First And The Rest, In The Long Run, Nowhere But In Anthologies.

The Race Of Man, While Sheep In Credulity, Are Wolves For Conformity.