The Letters Of Mark Twain, Complete


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He really had no invention; the whole project was a blackmailing  
swindle, and cost me several thousand dollars.  
The slip you sent me from the May "Study" has delighted Mrs. Clemens and  
me to the marrow. To think that thing might be possible to many; but to  
be brave enough to say it is possible to you only, I certainly  
believe. The longer I live the clearer I perceive how unmatchable, how  
unapproachable, a compliment one pays when he says of a man "he has the  
courage (to utter) his convictions." Haven't you had reviewers talk Alps  
to you, and then print potato hills?  
I haven't as good an opinion of my work as you hold of it, but I've  
always done what I could to secure and enlarge my good opinion of it.  
I've always said to myself, "Everybody reads it and that's something--it  
surely isn't pernicious, or the most acceptable people would get pretty  
tired of it." And when a critic said by implication that it wasn't  
high and fine, through the remark "High and fine literature is wine" I  
retorted (confidentially, to myself,) "yes, high and fine literature is  
wine, and mine is only water; but everybody likes water."  
You didn't tell me to return that proof-slip, so I have pasted it into  
my private scrap-book. None will see it there. With a thousand thanks.  
Ys Ever  
MARK.  
703  


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