The Letters Of Mark Twain, Complete


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was a delight to look at. (Roumanian costume.).....  
Twenty-four young people have gone out to the Semmering to-day (and  
to-morrow) and Mrs. Clemens and an English lady and old Leschetitzky and  
his wife have gone to chaperon them. They gave me a chance to go, but  
there are no snow mountains that I want to look at. Three hours out,  
three hours back, and sit up all night watching the young people dance;  
yelling conversationally and being yelled at, conversationally, by new  
acquaintances, through the deafening music, about how I like Vienna, and  
if it's my first visit, and how long we expect to stay, and did I see  
the foot-washing, and am I writing a book about Vienna, and so on. The  
terms seemed too severe. Snow mountains are too dear at the price....  
For several years I have been intending to stop writing for print as  
soon as I could afford it. At last I can afford it, and have put the  
pot-boiler pen away. What I have been wanting is a chance to write a  
book without reserves--a book which should take account of no one's  
feelings, and no one's prejudices, opinions, beliefs, hopes, illusions,  
delusions; a book which should say my say, right out of my heart, in the  
plainest language and without a limitation of any sort. I judged that  
that would be an unimaginable luxury, heaven on earth.  
It is under way, now, and it is a luxury! an intellectual drunk: Twice I  
didn't start it right; and got pretty far in, both times, before I found  
it out. But I am sure it is started right this time. It is in tale-form.  
I believe I can make it tell what I think of Man, and how he is  
1002  


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