My language was commonplace, my vocabulary limited, my grammar shaky, and my phrases hackneyed.... some years later it dawned upon me that it was a delicate art that must be painfully acquired.
I made up my mind to teach myself how to write. Unfortunately I had no one to help me. I made many mistakes.
I discovered my limitations, and it seemed to me that the only sensible thing was to aim at what excellence I could within them. and I was tired of trying to what did not come easily to me.
I knew that I should never write as well as I could wish, but I thought with pains I could arrive at writing as well as my natural defects allowed.
It seemed to me that I must aim at lucidity, simplicity and euphony. I have put these three qualities in the order of importance I assigned to them..
