ter.
Each individual has a right to choose his own career in life, so long as
that career is respectable and bodes no evil to humanity.
If, as your father threatens, he refuses to give you support while you
are exploring the field of literature, you should feel grateful to him
for this unintentional incentive to success.
I do not agree with those who consider the necessity to earn money a
misfortune to genius.
I believe the greatest works of art given to the world have been brought
to light through necessity.
The artistic temperament is almost invariably combined with a propensity
to dream, and to float upon the clouds of imagination.
The ranks of wealth and comfort are full of talented and accomplished
people who "never are, but always to be" great.
One great man in a score may have been reared in affluence, but I doubt
if the statistics would show so large a percentage.
There are many hills which contain valuable ore, but if the owner sits
in ease upon these elevations, and gazes at the sunsets, he does not
find the ore. If he is a poor man, and takes his pick and _digs_, he
finds his fortune.
At first he may cast out only loose earth and stones, but by this very
necessity to find valuables, he continues to search until the ore is
reached.
Were you to remain at home and enjoy all the benefits of your father's
wealth, I doubt if you would have the persistence to dig down into the
mine you possess within you.
You would sit on the hilltop and dream.
If you are forced to write to live, you may cast up some rubbish from
the surface; yet by the continual digging you will reveal all that lies
below.
Regarding the style you speak of adopting, let your feeling come
_first_, your style of expressing that feeling _second_. Say nothing
merely to exhibit your style--and hold back some strong feelings until
you can give them the best expression.
As to the methods of getting your work before the public and the
"influence" you need, I can only assure you that unless you write with
purpose, and power, and passionate enjoyment of your art, forgetful of
all things save your desire to express yourself, no influence on earth
can do more than give you a page in a magazine, or a column in a
newspaper for an occasion or two. And if you do write under those
conditions, you will need no influence: for it is just such writing the
world wants; and the editors and publishers will be forced to read you,
whether the
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