Happy is the writer who transcends dreary, loathsome characters that strike one with their wretched reality, and who tackles ones that manifest lofty merits, the writer who has selected from the slough of daily recurrent images just those few exceptions, who has never once lowered the high pitch of his lyre, has never descended from his heights to the level of those poor nonentities, his colleagues, and, never touching the ground, has devoted himself entirely to exalted images divorced from the earth.
