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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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"
No
,
the
cases
are
different
.
The
storiettes
were
ground
out
,
jaded
,
at
the
end
of
a
long
day
of
application
to
style
.
But
a
reporter
’
s
work
is
all
hack
from
morning
till
night
,
is
the
one
paramount
thing
of
life
.
And
it
is
a
whirlwind
life
,
the
life
of
the
moment
,
with
neither
past
nor
future
,
and
certainly
without
thought
of
any
style
but
reportorial
style
,
and
that
certainly
is
not
literature
.
To
become
a
reporter
now
,
just
as
my
style
is
taking
form
,
crystallizing
,
would
be
to
commit
literary
suicide
.
As
it
is
,
every
storiette
,
every
word
of
every
storiette
,
was
a
violation
of
myself
,
of
my
self
-
respect
,
of
my
respect
for
beauty
.
I
tell
you
it
was
sickening
.
I
was
guilty
of
sin
.
And
I
was
secretly
glad
when
the
markets
failed
,
even
if
my
clothes
did
go
into
pawn
.
But
the
joy
of
writing
the
‘
Love
-
cycle
’
!
The
creative
joy
in
its
noblest
form
!
That
was
compensation
for
everything
.
"
Martin
did
not
know
that
Ruth
was
unsympathetic
concerning
the
creative
joy
.
She
used
the
phrase
—
it
was
on
her
lips
he
had
first
heard
it
.
She
had
read
about
it
,
studied
about
it
,
in
the
university
in
the
course
of
earning
her
Bachelorship
of
Arts
;
but
she
was
not
original
,
not
creative
,
and
all
manifestations
of
culture
on
her
part
were
but
harpings
of
the
harpings
of
others
.
"
May
not
the
editor
have
been
right
in
his
revision
of
your
‘
Sea
Lyrics
’
?
"
she
questioned
.
"
Remember
,
an
editor
must
have
proved
qualifications
or
else
he
would
not
be
an
editor
.
"
"
That
’
s
in
line
with
the
persistence
of
the
established
,
"
he
rejoined
,
his
heat
against
the
editor
-
folk
getting
the
better
of
him
.
"
What
is
,
is
not
only
right
,
but
is
the
best
possible
.
The
existence
of
anything
is
sufficient
vindication
of
its
fitness
to
exist
—
to
exist
,
mark
you
,
as
the
average
person
unconsciously
believes
,
not
merely
in
present
conditions
,
but
in
all
conditions
.
It
is
their
ignorance
,
of
course
,
that
makes
them
believe
such
rot
—
their
ignorance
,
which
is
nothing
more
nor
less
than
the
henidical
mental
process
described
by
Weininger
.
They
think
they
think
,
and
such
thinkless
creatures
are
the
arbiters
of
the
lives
of
the
few
who
really
think
.
"
He
paused
,
overcome
by
the
consciousness
that
he
had
been
talking
over
Ruth
’
s
head
.
"
I
’
m
sure
I
don
’
t
know
who
this
Weininger
is
,
"
she
retorted
.
"
And
you
are
so
dreadfully
general
that
I
fail
to
follow
you
.
What
I
was
speaking
of
was
the
qualification
of
editors
—
"
"
And
I
’
ll
tell
you
,
"
he
interrupted
.
"
The
chief
qualification
of
ninety
-
nine
per
cent
of
all
editors
is
failure
.
They
have
failed
as
writers
.
Don
’
t
think
they
prefer
the
drudgery
of
the
desk
and
the
slavery
to
their
circulation
and
to
the
business
manager
to
the
joy
of
writing
.
They
have
tried
to
write
,
and
they
have
failed
.
And
right
there
is
the
cursed
paradox
of
it
.
Every
portal
to
success
in
literature
is
guarded
by
those
watch
-
dogs
,
the
failures
in
literature
.
The
editors
,
sub
-
editors
,
associate
editors
,
most
of
them
,
and
the
manuscript
-
readers
for
the
magazines
and
book
-
publishers
,
most
of
them
,
nearly
all
of
them
,
are
men
who
wanted
to
write
and
who
have
failed
.
And
yet
they
,
of
all
creatures
under
the
sun
the
most
unfit
,
are
the
very
creatures
who
decide
what
shall
and
what
shall
not
find
its
way
into
print
—
they
,
who
have
proved
themselves
not
original
,
who
have
demonstrated
that
they
lack
the
divine
fire
,
sit
in
judgment
upon
originality
and
genius
.
And
after
them
come
the
reviewers
,
just
so
many
more
failures
.
Don
’
t
tell
me
that
they
have
not
dreamed
the
dream
and
attempted
to
write
poetry
or
fiction
;
for
they
have
,
and
they
have
failed
.
Why
,
the
average
review
is
more
nauseating
than
cod
-
liver
oil
.
But
you
know
my
opinion
on
the
reviewers
and
the
alleged
critics
.
There
are
great
critics
,
but
they
are
as
rare
as
comets
.
If
I
fail
as
a
writer
,
I
shall
have
proved
for
the
career
of
editorship
.
There
’
s
bread
and
butter
and
jam
,
at
any
rate
.
"
Ruth
’
s
mind
was
quick
,
and
her
disapproval
of
her
lover
’
s
views
was
buttressed
by
the
contradiction
she
found
in
his
contention
.
"
But
,
Martin
,
if
that
be
so
,
if
all
the
doors
are
closed
as
you
have
shown
so
conclusively
,
how
is
it
possible
that
any
of
the
great
writers
ever
arrived
?
"
"
They
arrived
by
achieving
the
impossible
,
"
he
answered
.
"
They
did
such
blazing
,
glorious
work
as
to
burn
to
ashes
those
that
opposed
them
.
They
arrived
by
course
of
miracle
,
by
winning
a
thousand
-
to
-
one
wager
against
them
.
They
arrived
because
they
were
Carlyle
’
s
battle
-
scarred
giants
who
will
not
be
kept
down
.
And
that
is
what
I
must
do
;
I
must
achieve
the
impossible
.
"
"
But
if
you
fail
?
You
must
consider
me
as
well
,
Martin
.
"
