Therefore, I think that a young writer’s upward
course should be slow and beset with many obstacles,
even hardships. Not that I believe in hardships
as having inherent virtues; I think it is stupid to
regard them in that way; but they oftener bring out
the virtues inherent in the sufferer from them than
what I may call the ‘softships’; and at
least they stop him, and give him time to think.
This is the great matter, for if we prosper forward
rapidly, we have no time for anything but prospering
forward rapidly. We have no time for art, even
the art by which we prosper.
I would have the young contributor above all things
realize that success is not his concern. Good
work, true work, beautiful work is his affair, and
nothing else. If he does this, success will take
care of itself.
He has no business to think of the thing that will
take. It is the editor’s business to think
of that, and it is the contributor’s business
to think of the thing that he can do with pleasure,
the high pleasure that comes from the sense of worth
in the thing done. Let him do the best he can,
and trust the editor to decide whether it will take.
It will take far oftener than anything he attempts
perfunctorily; and even if the editor thinks it will
not take, and feels obliged to return it for that
reason, he will return it with a real regret, with
the honor and affection which we cannot help feeling
for any one who has done a piece of good work, and
with the will and the hope to get something from him
that will take the next time, or the next, or the next.
An artistic atmosphere does
not create artists
Any sort of work that is slighted
becomes drudgery
Put aside all anxiety about
style
Should sin a little more on
the side of candid severity
Trouble with success is that
it is apt to leave life behind
Work would be twice as good
if it were done twice
