The Orator Is Thereby An Orator That

Men Are Born To Write. The Gardener Saves Every Slip, And Seed, And Peach-stone: His Vocation Is To Be A Planter Of Plants. Not Less Does The Writer Attend His Affair. Whatever He Beholds Or Experiences, Comes To Him As A Model, And Sits For Its Picture. He Counts It All Nonsense That They Say, That Some Things Are Undescribable. He Believes That All That Can Be Thought Can Be Written, First Or Last; And He Would Report The Holy Ghost, Or Attempt It.

The Good Judge Is Not He Who Does Hair-splitting Justice To Every Allegation, But Who, Aiming At Substantial Justice, Rules Something Intelligible Of The Guidance Of Suitors.

The Mystic Must Be Steadily Told,-all That You Say Is Just As True Without The Tedious Use Of That Symbol As With It. Let Us Have A Little Algebra, Instead Of This Trite Rhetoric,-universal Signs, Instead Of These Village Symbols,-and We Shall Both Be Gainers. The History Of Hierarchies Seems To Show That All Religious Error Consisted In Making The Symbol Too Stark And Solid, And Was At Last Nothing But An Excess Of The Organ Of Language.

For The Time Of Towns Is Tolled From The World By Funereal Chimes, But In Nature The Universal Hours Are Counted By Succeeding Tribes Of Animals And Plants, And By Growth Of Joy On Joy.

If You Would Learn To Write, It Is In The Street You Must Learn It. Both For The Vehicle And For The Aims Of Fine Arts, You Must Frequent The Public Square. The People, And Not The College, Is The Writer's Home. A Scholar Is A Candle Which The Love And Desire Of All Men Will Light.