To me [Edgar Allen Poe's] prose is unreadable—like Jane Austin's [sic]. No there is a difference. I could read his prose on salary, but not Jane's. Jane is entirely impossible. It seems a great pity that they allowed her to die a natural death.
We ought not to be weary of doing little things for the love of God, who regards not the greatness of the work, but the love with which it is performed.