Babies Do Not Want To Hear About

If You Want To Be A Writer, Then Write. Write Every Day!

No Wonder, Sir, That He Is Vain; A Man Who Is Perpetually Flattered In Every Mode That Can Be Conceived. So Many Bellows Have Blown The Fire, That One Wonders He Is Not By This Time Become A Cinder.

A Soldier's Time Is Passed In Distress And Danger, Or In Idleness And Corruption.

In A Man's Letters You Know, Madam, His Soul Lies Naked, His Letters Are Only The Mirror Of His Breast, Whatever Passes Within Him Is Shown Undisguised In Its Natural Process. Nothing Is Inverted, Nothing Distorted, You See Systems In Their Elements, You Discover Actions In Their Motives.

This Merriment Of Parsons Is Mighty Offensive.