A Sentence (n.) is most attractive not when it is wisest, but when is surest and soundest.
The Sentence (n.) should read as if its author, had he held a plow instead of a pen, could have drawn a furrow deep and straight to the end.
The Sentence (n.) is a structure with its own aesthetic, not just a vessel for wisdom — The most attractive sentences are not perhaps the wisest, but the surest and soundest.
A Sentence (n.) is the result of a long probation.
The Sentence (n.) is verdurous and blooming as evergreen and flowers when rooted in fact and experience; the false and florid sentence has only the tints of flowers without their sap or roots.
The Sentence (n.) is nervous and tough, like hardened thongs, the sinews of the deer, or the roots of the pine, when written by rude hands.