The only case that offers
an exception to this rule arises when it is necessary to make a remark
that is in some way improper.
As exaggeration generally produces an effect the opposite of
that aimed at; so words, it is true, serve to make thought
intelligible--but only up to a certain point. If words are heaped up
beyond it, the thought becomes more and more obscure again. To find
where the point lies is the problem of style, and the business of the
critical faculty; for a word too much always defeats its purpose. This
is what Voltaire means when he says that _the adjective is the enemy
of the substantive_. But, as we have seen, many people try to conceal
their poverty of thought under a flood of verbiage.
Accordingly let all redundancy be avoided, all stringing together of
remarks which have no meaning and are not worth perusal. A writer must
make a sparing use of the reader's time, patience and attention; so as
to lead him to believe that his author writes what is worth careful
study, and will reward the time spent upon it. It is always better to
omit something good than to add that which is not worth saying at all.
This is the right application of Hesiod's maxim, [Greek: pleon aemisu
pantos][1]--the half is more than the whole. _Le secret pour
etre ennuyeux, c'est de tout dire_.
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