It is interesting to note that in thanking Clemens for his compliment Howells wrote: "What people cannot see is that I analyze as little as possible; they go on talking about the analytical school, which I am supposed to belong to, and I want to thank you for using your eyes..... Did you ever read De Foe's 'Roxana'? If not, then read it, not merely for some of the deepest insights into the lying, suffering, sinning, well-meaning human soul, but for the best and most natural English that a book was ever written in." Pray offer my most sincere and respectful approval to the President--is approval the proper word? I find it is the one I most value here in the household and seldomest get. In the same letter he suggests to his brother that he undertake an absolutely truthful autobiography, a confession in which nothing is to be withheld. He cites the value of Casanova's memories, and the confessions of Rousseau. And I say this also: He that waiteth for all men to be satisfied with his plan, let him seek eternal life, for he shall need it. Well-good-bye, and a short life and a merry one be yours. Poor old Methusaleh, how did he manage to stand it so long? You are assisted in your damaging work by the tyrannous ways of a village-- villagers watch each other and so make cowards of each other. TWAIN'S LETTERS V4 1886-1900 by A. B. Paine[MT#57][mt4lt10.txt]3196 And I have been an author for 20 years and an ass for 55 Argument against suicide Conversationally being yelled at Dead people who go through the motions of life Die in the promptest kind of a way and no fooling around Heroic endurance that resembles contentment Honest men must be pretty scarce I wonder how they can lie so. It comes of practice, no doubt If this is going to be too much trouble to you One should be gentle with the ignorant Sunday is the only day that brings unbearable leisure Symbol of the human race ought to be an ax What a pity it is that one's adventures never happen! TWAIN'S LETTERS V5 1901-1906 by A. B. Paine[MT#58][mt5lt10.txt]3197 I have seen that iceberg thirty-four times in thirty-seven voyages; it is always the same shape, it is always the same size, it always throws up the same old flash when the sun strikes it; you may set it on any New York door-step of a June morning and light it up with a mirror-flash; and I will engage to recognize it. It is artificial, and it is provided and anchored out by the steamer companies. I used to like the sea, but I was young then, and could easily get excited over any kind of monotony, and keep it up till the monotonies ran out, if it was a fortnight. It vexes me to catch myself praising the clean private citizen Roosevelt, and blaming the soiled President Roosevelt, when I know that neither praise nor blame is due to him for any thought or word or deed of his, he being merely a helpless and irresponsible coffee-mill ground by the hand of God.