Simple English is no one’s mother tongue. It has to be worked for.

You never step in the same river of thought twice, because neither you nor it are the same.

When people accept futility and the absurd as normal, the culture is decadent.

Take a portion of wit, And fashion it fit, Like a needle, with point and with eye: A point that can wound, An eye to look round, And at folly or vice let it fly

Simple English is no one’s mother tongue. It has to be worked for.

One great aim of revision is to cut out. In the exuberance of composition it is natural to throw in - as one does in speaking - a number of small words that add nothing to meaning but keep up the flow and rhythm of thought. In writing, not only does this surplusage not add to meaning, it subtracts from it. Read and revise, reread and revise, keeping reading and revising until your text seems adequate to your thought.

In teaching you cannot see the fruit of a day's work. It is invisible and remains so, maybe for twenty years.