All You Have To Do To Make

What A Heavy Oar The Pen Is, And What A Strong Current Ideas Are To Row In!

By Dint Of Railing At Idiots, One Runs The Risk Of Becoming An Idiot Oneself.

I Love Good Sense Above All, Perhaps Because I Have None.

My God, This Novel Makes Me Break Out In A Cold Sweat! Do You Know How Much I've Written In Five Months, Since The End Of August? Sixty-five Pages! Each Paragraph Is Good In Itself And There Are Some Pages That Are Perfect. I Feel Certain. But Just Because Of This, It Isn't Getting On. It's A Series Of Well-turned, Ordered Paragraphs Which Do Not Flow On From Each Other. I Shall Have To Unscrew Them, Loosen The Joints, As One Does With The Masts Of A Ship When One Wants The Sail To Take More Wind.

The More Humanity Advances, The More It Is Degraded.