“Eloquence is the art of saying things in such a manner—first, that those to whom they are addressed can understand them without trouble and with pleasure; and secondly, that they may be interested in them in such a way that their _amour propre_ may lead them gladly to reflect upon them. It consists, therefore, in a correspondence established between the mind and heart of the hearers on the one side, and the thoughts and expressions used on the other, and so implies a close study of the human heart in order to know all its springs, and to find the due measures of speech to address to it. It must confine itself, as far as possible, to the simplicity of nature, and not make great what is small, nor small what is great. It is not enough that a thing be fine, it must be fitting,—neither in excess nor defect.” “Eloquence should prevail by gentle suasion, not by constraint. It should reign, not tyrannise. “There are some who speak well, and who do not write well. The place—the assembly—excites them, and draws forth their mind more than they ever experience without such excitement.” “Those who make antitheses by forcing the sense are like men who make false windows for the sake of symmetry. Their rule is not to speak correctly, but to make correct figures.” “There should be in eloquence always what is true and real; but that which is pleasing should itself be the real.” “When we meet with the natural style we are surprised and delighted, for we expected to find an author, and we find a man; whilst those of good taste who in looking into a book think to find a man, are altogether surprised to find an author. _Plus poetice quam humane locutus es_. They honour nature most who teach her that she can speak best on all subjects—even on theology.” “There are men who always dress up nature. No mere king with them, but an august monarch. No Paris, but the capital of the kingdom. There are places in which it is necessary to call Paris Paris; others, where we must call it the capital of the kingdom.” “When in composition we find a word repeated, and on trying to correct it find it so suitable that a change would spoil the sense, it is better to let it alone. This stamps it as fitting, and it is a stupid feeling which does not recognise that repetition in such a case is not a fault; for there is no universal rule. “The meaning itself changes with the words which express it. The meaning derives its dignity from the words, instead of imparting it to them.” “The last thing that we discover in writing a book is to know what to put at the beginning.