Aphorism, of all prose, is the least hospitable.
If it had been your exact thought you would have used my exact words.
Reading great authors improves your writing by making you desperately unhappy with it.
There is almost nothing that being prefaced with “social” cannot spoil.
Poetry is language at its limit, as math is logic at its limit; and poetry anxiety, like math anxiety, is only the realization that comprehension requires effort, and the fear that even then it may never arrive.
Bad writers try to start discussions, good writers try to end them.
It is rare, in discursive writing, to encounter an argument at all, let alone a sound one.
It is a landmark in a writer’s career when he first finds his work put to purposes of which he does not approve.
A two-dollar word will also debit two dollars from your account when you use it incorrectly.
A regular reviewer, whose fodder must by its nature be mostly mediocre or worse, can discharge his responsibilities to his readers only by continual pans, often of his friends and acquaintances; and this is more than human nature can bear.
There is a certain type of purveyor of ideas, too stupid to be anything but candid, which makes him useful, like the canary in a coal mine.