"What on
earth has that to do with the subject?"
"Well, I have taken it from this line where you say, 'And in his
brain are two divided worlds of thought.'"
"But I say that they are divided--divided isn't linked!"
"No, I quite admit it. But though divided they must be linked to a
certain extent by being both within his brain. It is not quite right
though, because the walls of the skull might, by encircling the two
worlds, be said to unite them, but they could not 'link' anything. I
follow all that, and I don't think the title is particularly
artistic. It's not clear enough. Your own is much better from the
view of intrinsic fitness. But the beauty of Linked Spheres is its
indistinctness. You must not be too clear. That has been my great
fault--perspicuity--and I am beginning to see it now. It has fatally
barred my getting on. I always do try to make people see exactly
what I mean, and that is apparently a mistake. When I write about
passion everybody feels it is passion, and is shocked in
consequence. When another fellow writes about it you feel he is
trying to say something, but you are not quite sure what, and so it
doesn't matter."
"'Muddle it! muddle it!' must be your watchword if you want to pass
muster through the British press. Linked Spheres is a splendid
muddle--very indefinite, quite void of connection with the subject
in hand, and with a pleasant tinkle about the sound, just like
Gladstone's speeches! Linked Spheres! It's impossible, for how the
deuce would you link a sphere? Metaphor all wrong, and no one will
know in the least what you mean, but it sounds pleasant and
polished, and perfectly proper, and you'll find your editor will
swallow the poem at a gulp.
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